


Sanguine's Debauchery: Bride

by Vaedana



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Altmer - Freeform, Anal Sex, Argonian - Freeform, Bondage, Daedra, Dragonborn - Freeform, Dubious Consent, Dunmer - Freeform, Humiliation, Khajiit - Freeform, Multi, Nord, Oral Sex, Orsimer - Freeform, Rape, Redguard - Freeform, Rough Sex, Sanguine - Freeform, Sanguine's Debauchery, Skyrim - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Werewolf, bosmer - Freeform, breton - Freeform, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaedana/pseuds/Vaedana
Summary: Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)





	1. What Normalcy?

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'll just mention, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! Lots of rape, non-con, dubious con, kinky stuff, weird stuff, this story's all over the place! If any of that is not of interest to you, find another story! There are tons of fabulous authors out there with probably far less questionable content in their stories. Ignorant comments are a waste of your time, not mine. This is a judgement-free zone. A happy place. Filled with dark fantasies from the strangest corners of my mind usually written in the middle of the night when my brain should be off. None of this has been proof-read or majorly tweaked, so I'm expecting to read back over it after I post it and think, "What the hell did I write?" As for the content, in no way, shape, or form do I condone rape or anything close to it. Complete consent and open communication should always be shared between partners. This is all just dark, twisted fantasy concerning fake people. Should be fun! There IS actually a plot to this (dinky as it may be, I don't know, I'm still developing it), so it's not just aimless smut. Mostly, but not completely. I'm really just vomit-writing until my writer's block goes away and I can get back to writing better stuff. Feel free to be critical, I learn through my failures. Have fun, ya bunch of pervs. ^_~

It was the same dream again, filtering into my sleep for the fifth time this week. In the dream, I lay naked on a bed of satin, while countless hands stroked, squeezed, and invaded my body. I couldn't deny the pleasure I felt, mixed with horror as it was. Standing over me was a dark figure, large and sculpted, its frame enhanced by its impressive, spiked armor of black and red. It simply watched, its arms folded over its chest, as the hands continued to violate me, and somehow I could sense its approval.

I woke, my chest heaving as I blinked my dream away. Once again, I had not seen my watcher's face. He stood in shadow, but his image always stayed with me when I woke. And once again, the dream left me with another problem, aside from disturbed sleep. The ache between my legs throbbed, in need of relief. I sighed, staring up at the underside of my tent. This was getting out of hand. I had just left home seven days ago, and the dreams had started that first night of travel. And each time, I woke with the now-familiar pressure that longed to be released.

I rolled onto my side with a huff, determined to ignore the sensation. There was something about that dream, and the man in it. He wasn't... normal. There was something more to him. I put him out of my mind and tried to focus on going back to sleep, but I felt awake, now. My body hummed with energy, ready to spring to action. Perhaps that just went with the dreams' leftover sensations.

I threw the furs off me and pushed the flap aside, looking out to see the sky lightening on the horizon. Well, if sleep would evade me, then I may as well start the day early. After breakfast, I broke camp, packing my things as my father had taught me. I smiled as I thought of my family, and how accepting they were of my notion to leave home. I knew they would miss me, and I missed them. But the world was out there, waiting for me to see it.

As I donned my armor, I realized the fur leg guards were refusing to rise past my mid-thighs. I slid them off and held them up, perplexed. They were the same size; it wasn't as if armor shrank. I had noticed they were a bit snug the day before. With a shrug, I set them down and lifted my fur chest piece. I knew it wouldn't fit well, it had been getting tighter since the day I'd left home. But now I couldn't seem to squeeze myself into it. My last herculean effort left me gasping, and I finally gave up, tossing it aside in frustration. I looked down at myself, clad in rough-hewn farm clothes that hid my figure well. Had I gained weight? That seemed unlikely, as I'd been living on rations for the past five days. Perhaps it was just traveling muscle. I'd have to get a good look at myself when I was somewhere warm.

The only things I could put on were my bracers and boots. The helmet would have looked ridiculous without the rest, so I left it in my bag. I would have an armorer look at the rest of it and see if they could improve the fit. I was cold without my armor, but according to my map, I was just a few hours away from Rorikstead. I would warm myself at the inn there and see where the nearest armorer was.

I met my first traveler on the road shortly after dawn. A wooden cart pulled by a stout horse slowed beside me.

"Good morning!" the middle-aged man driving it called, smiling down at me. "Would you care for a ride?"

"Where are you bound?" I asked curiously, smiling up at his kind face.

"Rorikstead," he answered. "Then Riverwood. And you?"

"Rorikstead," I replied cheerfully.

He pulled his horse to a halt and offered me his hand, pulling me up onto the driver's bench beside him before flicking the reins again.

"I'm Romund," he said conversationally.

"Merilyn," I replied, shaking his hand.

He smiled at me, though it was a moment before he looked away again. We chatted along the way, and he was amiable enough. Every now and then, however, I would catch him looking at me sideways in a way that made me somewhat uncomfortable. We reached Rorikstead in just over an hour. The town was bustling with the morning's activities. We pulled to a stop outside of the inn.

"Well, here we are," Romund said cheerfully. "Take care on the road out there."

"Thank you," I said, taking his offered hand as he helped me down. "Is there anything I can give you in return?"

As I looked up at him, smiling expectantly, I saw his face darken momentarily, and his grip on my hand tightened slightly. After a pause, during which my smile slipped a little, he cleared his throat and released me, a flush creeping across his face.

"No, no, nothing," he mumbled, taking up the reins again. "Take care."

With that, he urged the horse forward and trundled through the streets.

I blinked after him, somewhat baffled, then turned and made my way inside. The inn was fairly empty, with just the caretakers cleaning and cooking. I asked for a room, and they gave me one for the day and night. In my room, I closed the door and removed my bracers, boots, and clothes. I looked down at myself, and I did notice a change. All my life, I'd been thin, never quite growing into my height, and I've never had much of a figure. There were numerous nicknames given to me as a child that mocked my boyish figure. My mother always told me I would grow into myself, but I never thought it would be in the span of a week. Less than, in fact.

My legs had shape to them, rather than their spindly look from before. My calves were slender, but actually curved to my ankles. My thighs, once so terribly thin, sloped gracefully to meet my now-full hips. I ran my hands up my backside, staring behind me at the outward curve of the cheeks. _That_ wasn't there before. I turned forward and looked down, inhaling sharply at the sight of my breasts, no longer the small lumps of last week, but swollen, perky mounds that moved-actually moved!-with every movement I made.

"Where did _these_ come from?" I asked out loud, running my hands over them and down to my stomach--only to find that even it had changed. Where once you could have counted my ribs, now my abdomen was taut but shaped with muscle and soft skin, slight lines running down to my pelvis. I finally had the figure of a woman-and not just any figure, the _perfect_ figure-and I couldn't fathom how it had come so fast.

I looked around and spotted a looking glass over the dresser-small, but the metal was polished enough to see myself clearly. Crossing to it, I leaned forward and peered at myself. And I almost cried out. My face, once pale and pinched, had filled out, as well. The edges were softer, the skin smooth and blemish-free (a first). My nose flowed smoothly into my cheeks, rather than looking as though it had been stuck there. And my cheeks, once pasty, now had a slight blush to them, which looked nice on my ivory skin. My lips almost looked swollen, they were so full. And when I touched them, I was amazed by how soft they felt. Even my hair had changed, the frizz gone, replaced by smooth, shining strands. The color was about the same, just somehow more vivid, the red just a shade darker than the brilliant red apples in the tree near my home. The style was the same, the strands falling gracefully around my face while the rest spilled down my back past my shoulder blades.

I frantically searched for something familiar, something unchanged, and I found it in my eyes. They were still large-once too large for my face, but now they seemed to fit-and at the moment, wide with shock. But then I noticed the thicker, longer lashes that framed them, and I began to wonder if the green in my irises had always been so vivid...

I backed away from the stranger looking back at me, looking down at myself again. Surely, I should be thankful, but this simply wasn't _normal_. Should I go home? Was I unwell? I ran my hands over myself absent-mindedly. I didn't _feel_ unwell. I felt... good. Vibrant. Perhaps I was simply _meant_ to be out in the world, and this was my body agreeing with it. Perhaps it was a sign from the gods.

As I thought, my fingers continued to trail over my skin, and after a few moments, my thoughts trailed off to nothing in particular. I paid more attention to the path of my fingertips, and the tingling sensations they left in their wake. I circled them over my breasts and became aware of how sensitive my nipples were. Each touch sent electric sensations through my body, down to...

I gasped, pulling my hands away and covering my mouth. What was happening to me? I hurriedly got dressed and left my room, deciding that now may not be the best time to be alone.


	2. What Innocence?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiteration! READ THE WARNINGS! Escape while you can! I make no apologies for the crap I'm spewing. I did forget to mention Merilyn's age, so I'll add it in to this chapter. Another thing I forgot to mention is that this story is based off of an Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim mod called... Sanguine's Debauchery! Found on Lovers Lab. I used it for a little bit, and it inspired this story. For you mod-lovers, SD was a highly entertaining mod (pay attention to the title--this is NOT a family-friendly mod). However, SexLab tended to cause a lot of problems in the game, and I spent more time fixing them than playing. But interesting note--Nexus Mods has actually put up a sex mod! It's called OSex, and it looks very well-done. I look forward to testing it. Anywho. Enjoy the nastiness to come, fellow pervs.

I spent the day meandering around the town, asking questions and helping the townsfolk with menial chores. In all my eighteen years, that was what I had spent my time doing, anyway. This adventure was meant to change that, and it would. But the few extra septims couldn't hurt. While exploring the town, I learned that the nearest blacksmith of note was in Whiterun, and it was heavily advised that my travels should carry me there. As evening began to fall, I went back to the inn. Some people were beginning to gather inside, seated on stools and at tables, or gathered around the fire. I decided I'd bathe before joining them, and had a tub filled for me. As I lay in the water, I noticed something bobbing on the surface. Scooping it in my hand, I realized it was red hair. My hair. But not from my head, it was too thick and short. My hand flew beneath the water where I felt my pubic area. Scant strands peeled right out of my skin without effort, and I raised my hand, looking at the wet hairs that clung to my fingers. I put both hands down there, feeling the entire area. Hair drifted right off at my touch, floating in the water and collecting on the surface. My hand brushed against my leg, and I felt the same sensation. A quick once-over of my legs had the tub filled with pale red hair. Panicking, I quickly felt my head, but when I pulled on the long strands, they stayed firmly attached to my scalp. My arms, too, were safe, though the pits beneath my shoulders suffered the same fate as my legs and privates.

"What in the HELL is going on?!" I asked loudly, my voice rising an octave.

"Is everything all right?" I heard the innkeeper ask outside the door of the bath room.

"Uh... no!" I squeaked before clearing my throat and steadying my shaking voice. "I'm-I'm okay! Just enjoying this lovely bath!"

"All right... let me know if you need anything."

"Uh-huh," I responded absently, lifting my hands out of the water again and staring at the harmless-seeming hair.

In a sudden frenzy of panic or madness, I quickly splashed the water away from me, pushing the film of hair, and practically leapt out of the tub, almost slipping on the puddle I made. Catching myself, I quickly grabbed the drying fabric they'd left for me and patted myself down. When I finished, I noticed it was spotted with the leftover hair that had clung to me as I got out. Throwing it across the room as if it were a rabid skeever, I pulled on my farming clothes, not concerned that they hadn't been washed, and hurried out of the bathroom, hoping I wouldn't have to explain why it was covered in hair.

Once in my room, I took a moment to calm myself, and I decided I needed two things: food, and a distraction. I stepped out to join the small crowd in the tavern, taking a seat by the fire to let my hair dry. I picked at a plate of cheese, bread, and berries and watched as a traveling bard pulled a flute out of his bag and began to play a cheerful tune. He was young and attractive, with blonde hair that curled to the nape of his neck, and clear, blue eyes. He was charismatic, and his smile made him all the more handsome. He caught my eye and winked, and I flushed, looking down at my plate. I'd been caught staring.

I focused on my food as he played out his tune, handing the empty plate to one of the inn's caretakers as they passed. When I looked up again, the bard had pulled out his lute and was preparing to sing a song. His eyes were fixed on me. Without looking away, he dedicated the next song to all of the beautiful ladies in the room. There were a few titters as his focus on me became apparent to the other patrons.

His voice was lovely and smooth, and he never took his eyes off me as he sang a song of cold Skyrim nights and the healing warmth of a lover. My cheeks flamed, but I couldn't look away from him. Something in me was awakening, responding to his sensual stare. The song was a teasing number, describing in detail the moment of a single touch, but only hinting at more heated scenes. I pressed my thighs together, conscious again of that slight pressure between my legs.

When the song ended, he bowed to the rest of the room and stowed his lute away before making his way over to me. As the townsfolk began talking and laughing amongst themselves, he stopped in front of me, offering me his hand, and gave a charming smile. He jerked his head toward an empty table in the back corner of the room.

"Would you care to join me?" he asked smoothly, his voice like honey.

I smiled tentatively and put my hand in his. He helped me up and led me over to the table. I sat on the bench, and he sat next to me, straddling it so he could face me. He sat a bit closer than I knew was proper, but I found the closeness enticing. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his palm, watching me with a slight smile.

"I'm Braden," he said, offering me his free hand.

"Merilyn," I replied shyly, giving his hand a small shake.

He tightened his grip slightly as I tried to pull my hand back, and he held it gently in his, his thumb tracing over the back of my knuckles.

"I hope my last song didn't make you uncomfortable," he said politely, but the knowing smile he wore told me he knew the effect it had taken on me.

"Not at all," I said, mortified as I felt my cheeks warm again. I cleared my throat bravely. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

"I'm sure," he said, his smile widening. "What a lovely color," he commented, releasing my hand so he could reach up, brushing the backs of his fingers against my cheek. His eyes darkened. "I wonder if it remains trapped on your cheeks, or if it graces the rest of your skin."

I stared blankly at him, stunned and unsure if I should be offended, or if it was acceptable to feel as excited as I did.

"Forgive me," he said vaguely, moving forward so his knee was in front of mine, his other behind me. "I'm usually not this forward," he explained, looking pleasantly perplexed as he swept my hair back off my shoulder. "I just can't seem to help myself tonight. I fear I'm quite under your spell."

I couldn't stop my answering smile, and he took the encouragement. We talked softly for some time, asking inane questions about each other. He was a Nord, trained as a bard from the moment his voice had changed as a young boy. I told him I was a Breton, and how my parents had come to Skyrim with me when I was just a babe. He seemed unable to sit without touching me, sometimes holding my hand, sometimes touching my hair. Occasionally he would kiss the back of my hand, watching my face as the blush stole across it and smiling deviously. Once or twice the other patrons called for him to sing or play, and he would reluctantly leave my side to sing to his drinking crowd. Each time he sat back down, he moved deliberately closer, until I was nestled close between his legs. He told jokes and stories, speaking to me softly as his hands grew more daring, tracing over the top of my leg, the side of my arm, down my back.

I laughed at his jests and listened to his tales, but it was his touch I responded to. I couldn't seem to get enough of it. I drank a mug of ale to give my hands something to do, but when that ran out, I clasped them tightly in my lap, not trusting them to behave. When another bard stood and began telling a humorous story about a giant and his mammoth, Braden pulled me across his lap, turning so we faced the performer. His tale was quite funny, and I laughed with everyone else, but my breathing hitched when the soft breath of Braden's chuckles brushed my cheek. When the story ended, we talked some more, though neither of us seemed to be paying much attention to what we were saying with our faces so close. Someone began playing a slow, haunting melody on a flute, and Braden held my gaze as he leaned in. His lips met mine softly, and a quiet, brief moan sounded from his throat. It was soft and sweet and perfect. And also my first.

He pulled back slightly, just breaking the contact. "I want to taste you," he whispered.

I wasn't sure exactly what he meant, only that his words seemed to set me on fire. Before I could not my vigorous consent, he spun us so we faced away from the distracted patrons again. He kissed me again, his lips moving against mine, easing them apart, and the feel of his tongue on mine had me squirming. He stilled me with his hand, sliding it past my knee and along my inner thigh. When he reached the apex, he stroked me lightly with his fingertips over the rough fabric of my trousers. He did it only once, but it was enough to make me nearly spasm in his arms, my hands shaking with need as they clutched the front of his shirt.

"Come to my room," he murmured against my lips.

I tried to blink, to clear my head, but suddenly he was standing, lifting me in his arms and carrying me to one of the doors that led off from the main room. He nudged the cracked door open with his foot, then kicked it shut behind him. I tried desperately to focus, knowing I was being rash. His grip on me changed, and I was tossed onto the bed, landing on the furs with a surprised gasp, my legs hanging over the sides. He stared down at me, his eyes burning, and slowly reached behind him, locking the door.

I swallowed, looking up at him with tangled emotions, dazed from how quickly this had escalated. He rubbed at the bulge between his legs, his eyes shadowed as they looked down at me. This was not the gentle gaze he'd had before.

"Take off your clothes," he said softly, his melodic voice low and husky.

I could see the lust in his eyes, but I could also see the need. It mirrored mine, and I felt an inexplicable need to relieve it. I wanted to satisfy him. But why? And could I?

Buying time, I slowly took the hem of my shirt in my hands and lifted it over my head, letting it drop to the floor as the cool air hit my stomach. Keeping my gaze on him, I slid off the side of the bed and stood facing him, hooking my thumbs in my pants and sliding them down to my ankles with unusual grace. Since when could I do that without falling over? I straightened, stepping out of the fabric and kicking it aside.

When I hesitated, he stepped forward, pressing against me as his mouth claimed mine. His hands went to my back, pulling at my wrap until it came loose. He yanked it aside, then pressed his hands flat against my back, pushing my breasts against him. his hands slid down, slipping underneath my underwear and dragging them down. He dropped to his knees in front of me, pulling the fabric down my legs to my ankles. His nose skimmed over my thighs as his hands traced their way back up, trailing over my sensitive skin. He pressed his lips to my lower stomach, leaving fluttering kisses as he lowered himself until he reached the central point of all the pressure I'd been feeling. His tongue darted out, lightly flicking the pearl between my folds, and I gasped, covering my mouth to stifle the sound.

"You've not done this before, have you?" he asked softly, ever-so-slowly trailing his fingertips up my inner thigh.

"No," I choked out, feeling shy and nervous and wanton. "Please, I've never been with anyone, and I don't..."

My breath escaped my mouth as his fingers pushed past my folds, sliding inside me, two at once. The feeling was invasive and alien and delicious. I instantly wanted more, but was determined to voice my fears.

"I don't think I can handle... Oh..." I stuttered as his fingers began to slip in and out, his eyes looking up at me as I began to fall apart from his touch. "I don't want to... give myself fully... Not tonight..."

"We'll see," he murmured, his lips moving against me.

He slid his fingers out and grabbed my legs, pulling me off-balance so I fell back on the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows as he stood before me. He pulled his shirt off and untied his pants, kicking them off along with his boots. He stood before me, naked and beautiful, and my eyes were drawn to his manhood. It stood erect and intimidating, the first I'd seen. He was sizeable, and I worried at that. But I reasoned that I needn't worry. I told him not tonight.

He took himself in his hand, rubbing gently. I watched, mesmerized, and he smiled a crooked smile.

"Do you want to taste it?" he asked tauntingly.

I did. I was suddenly very curious. Never had that thought been appealing, and yet now all I wanted to do was try it. He offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him pull me up so I sat on the edge of the bed. He let go of himself and let his hands fall to his sides. I reached out, placing my fingers gently on his erection, surprised by how soft the skin was. I ran my fingers up and down the length of it, feeling its smoothness. I wrapped my hand around him then and leaned forward, pressing my lips to the tip of his head. I could actually feel him stiffen further in my palm.

I looked up at him, meeting his blazing eyes.

"Go on," he rasped. "Wrap those beautiful lips around my cock."

I did as I was told, watching his lips part in a sigh as I took the head into my mouth. I sucked gently, my tongue caressing the tip and tasting something curiously salty. I closed my eyes, squeezing my hand slightly as I pulled him further in, my mouth widening from the thickness of him. I swirled my tongue around him and heard him moan quietly. He placed his hands on either side of my head and flexed his hips, pushing himself further into my mouth. He pulled out slightly and pushed back in, and I realized that was the friction he needed. I put my hands on his hips and pulled him in further, hearing him inhale in surprise.

I moved, sliding my lips and tongue along him as I pulled his hips to me, slipping him in and out of my mouth. He was all I could taste, and I was intrigued by his flavor. I pushed further forward, trying to take in more of him, and I felt him nudge the back of my throat. I waited for my gag reflex to kick in, as it always did when something reached that area of my mouth, but nothing happened. Curious, I took him in further still, amazed that I wasn't reacting to the intrusion.

His breath hissed between his teeth, and he tangled his fingers in my hair, holding my head still as he began to push himself into me, deeper still. I held onto as he invaded my mouth again and again, struggling to breathe through my nose. After mere minutes, I could feel something thick filling my mouth around him, the saltiness returning stronger than before. The warm liquid was forced to the back of my mouth with each push of him, sliding down my throat. Stray drops escaped the corners of my lips, dripping down to my chin. I swallowed reflexively, drinking as he stilled, pouring himself down the back of my tongue. Finally, he pulled out, leaving me gasping and flexing my sore jaw. He released my head and knelt in front of me.

"Someone's been telling tales," he said softly, smiling. "You _have_ done this before."

"Never, I swear," I said, shaking my head. "Never before tonight."

He raised an eyebrow, looking dubiously impressed. He ran his thumb up the side of my chin, catching the droplets that clung there, and pushed his thumb into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around it and licked the sticky substance off him. He did the same on the other side, and I realized I quite liked the taste. He watched me, shaking his head, and pulled his thumb out to stroke my cheek.

"I have had many girls before," he said matter-of-factly, "but not one of them were like you. You are such a sweet little thing. I can't wait to taste more of you."

I blinked, and suddenly he was kissing me again, bending over me as he pushed me back onto the furs. His lips left my mouth, kissing down my neck, between my breasts, over my ribs and down my stomach. He slid his hands between my thighs and pushed them apart. His lips found my soft folds and he dipped his tongue inside me, tasting the wetness pooling there. He moaned appreciatively.

"Delicious. You should try it."

He lipped his fingertips just inside me, swirling them around. I moaned softly, aware of the crowd just outside the door. He reached up, bringing his fingers to my lips. I took them in my mouth, sucking them clean, and I was surprised at the sweetness of the taste. It wasn't what I expected. I wasn't even sure if it was supposed to taste this way. But before I could dwell on it, he pulled his fingers out of my mouth and slipped them back inside me, pushing them all the way to the knuckles. He put his lips just above them, and I heard him begin to suck gently on the small spot nestled there. My entire body clenched wonderfully from the attention he gave that single spot. And when he turned his fingers so they curled upwards, stroking firmly along the front wall, I nearly lost my head from the pleasure that spiked through me. I couldn't pick any one sensation to focus on, and my body felt as if it was being electrocuted.

"Please... slow down," I squeaked quietly, reaching down to gently push at his head.

Ignoring me, he only intensified his assault, easing a third finger inside me as he eagerly licked and sucked me. I grasped his hair, meaning to shove him away, but I surprised myself by pulling instead, crushing him to me. He moved faster, sending me into a frenzy as my legs began to shake. the moan that escaped me was louder than I intended, and I quickly stifled it, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to my face. He pulled his fingers out and gripped my thighs, pushing my legs wide apart. My entire body tensed as I succumbed to his mouth, the pillow muffling my cries as my legs spasmed against his firm grip. Liquid gushed out of me, soaking the edge of the mattress beneath me. He continued to lick me slowly, languidly, as I came back down from my mindless high. He flicked the spot one last time with his tongue before reaching up and pulling the pillow away from me. He smiled lazily, standing and sliding his arms beneath me. He pulled me up so that I lay the right way on the bed, and he stretched out beside me, pulling the furs up over our waists. I laid back lifelessly on the pillow, staring up at him through a haze.

"You tasted better than I imagined," he commented, leaning down to brush his lips against mine.

I murmured quietly, unable to form words. He slipped his arm around me and turned me, pulling me so my back rested against his chest.

"Sleep now, girl," he whispered in my ear as I closed my heavy eyes. "Rest while you can."

"Hmm?" I mumbled in confusion, but sleep overtook me before I heard his answer.


	3. What Virginity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE WARNINGS! I figure if I say this everywhere and as often as I can, no one can claim they didn't know what kind of horrible nastiness they opted to read. Juicy stuff in this chapter as it starts to get interesting. Hope you like it. Just a note, I'm posting these first chapters fairly quickly because I've already written them. It's just a matter of typing them. That's right. I write old-school. I'm dying for some carpal tunnel. Once I've caught up to what I've already got, the posts will slow some, but I'll try to keep them as regular as possible. This may be smut, but damn it, it will be completed smut. Read on, pervmeisters!

The dream came again. I lay on the bed of satin, the dark hands grasping and groping at me. But it was different. I could feel everything in stark detail as if I were actually there. The sheets were cool against my skin, the flesh of the hands course and chafing. I could hear faint echoes of voices, distant and sensual in nature. My new body was present, instead of the old one. And the figure stood before me, its face finally visible by the flickering of candlelight from somewhere behind me. I couldn't tell if he was handsome, just that he wasn't human. Or mortal, for that matter. His skin was red and black, the patterns over his face making his features difficult to see. Two sets of horns curled back over his head. His eyes were shifting between black and vivid red, and they watched me arrogantly. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed on either side of me, and the dark hands vanished. He gazed down at me and smiled with pointed teeth.

"Let this happen," he said, his voice soft and yet rumbling, echoing through this place and in my head.

He reached down, and I felt his touch between my legs, almost searing my skin with its heat. I closed my eyes, knowing I couldn't fight it, and not wanting to. I knew I had seen him wearing his spiked gauntlets, but when his fingers pushed inside me, I only felt flesh, soft and warm, and moving gently in and out.

I felt my body ready itself for him, my skin warming as the tips of my breasts hardened, the space between my thighs growing slick and wet. I sighed and shifted, feeling furs instead of satin, and when my eyes drifted open, I saw the pale wooden wall of the room at the inn. A palm cupped me warmly as its fingers swept in and out, and the voices outside the room were raised in a roaring, drunken song.

The fingers pulled away, and something else pushed between my legs from behind. My awareness kicked in, and I gasped, moving to sit up. But Braden's hand clamped over my mouth, his other grasping my wrist tightly.

"Shhh, sweet girl," he whispered into my ear. "Don't make a sound. You don't want everyone out there to see you like this, do you?" he asked, his breath tickling my neck. I began to tremble against him, afraid to move. "I asked you a question," he reminded me, running his lips along my shoulder. "Do you want to call those people in here so they can see you, open and bared to me?"

I shivered and shook my head frantically.

"Good," he whispered, pleased. "Then I want you to be very quiet for me."

He slowly relaxed his grip on my wrist, releasing it when it seemed I wasn't going to struggle. I clutched my hands to my chest as I stared at the wall with wide eyes. His hand moved to my thighs, pushing them forward so they stretched out in front of me, my knees curled below them. Then he put his hand around my hips, pulling back so my back end jutted out behind me. The hand on my mouth pulled my head back so that it rested against his shoulder, exposing my neck. His free hand cupped one side of my ass, lifting and separating the cheeks to give him better access. I felt him position himself so that he angled upward, his tip resting against me.

"Remember to stay very quiet," he whispered sweetly, kissing the corner of my jaw.

He rolled his hips, pushing into me with some difficulty, I was so tight against him.

"Good, sweet girl," he praised, pulling out to the tip again. "Nice and quiet."

He pushed in again, stretching me, and I whimpered as I felt a sharp pinch deep inside me.

"Shhh," he hushed me, his hand tightening on my mouth. "Let this happen."

He bucked his hips a little harder this time, and all of my skin burned as the fullness consumed me. I swallowed the noise bubbling in my throat, afraid of what kind of sound it was. He pulled out again and began thrusting in eagerly, the wet sounds filling the room over the muffled voices from outside.

"By the gods, you feel so good," he groaned quietly, pushing against my constricting walls.

Suddenly, he gripped behind my knee, pulling my leg up and hooking it behind his thigh, forcing my legs apart. He pushed up and into me more quickly and deeply, bounding my supple cheeks against his hard pelvis. He bit my shoulder lightly, and I couldn't stop the faint moan that slipped past his fingers. His teeth released my skin in surprise.

"By Shor, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" he murmured in amazement. I felt him smile against my neck. "I knew you would," he whispered conspiratorially against my skin.

He pulled me so I was half laying on top of him, keeping my other leg on the bed so I opened that much more to him. He set a delicious pace as he filled me against and again. When another quiet moan slipped out of me, he slowly moved his hand from my gasping mouth. He reached around me with both hands and took my wrists, prying them away from my chest and out to my sides. Each thrust he gave me made my exposed breasts move with a satisfying jiggle, my hard, tight nipples bouncing with them. My head lolled back against his shoulder, and I felt his breathing grow ragged on the skin of my neck as he watched my bared and vulnerable body move with each jarring thrust.

My body began to tense, and I couldn't stop the keening moans beginning to escape my parted lips. Braden released my wrists and grabbed my breasts, his hands not quite able to fully cup them. He rolled suddenly so I was pinned beneath him, my breasts still trapped in his hands as his weight pressed down on me. His knees pushed my legs apart, and he set a new pace, his strokes slow and deep, languid and torturous. I slipped my arms under the pillow, and pressed it to my face, trying to quiet my gasps and moans.

"Embrace it, Sweetness," Braden whispered against the back of my neck. "You wanted to be fucked. You needed this."

I moaned in answer, tightening around him.

"You were thinking of my cock the moment you saw me," he continued, grunting as he pushed harder against me. "You wanted to feel me inside you. I know I did. I couldn't wait to spread your legs and fuck this sweet little cunt."

I spasmed, quivering as the foreign heat pooled in my belly to a maddening point.

"And now I am," he continued, his smooth voice textured with grunts as his body flexed against mine again and again. "Now your perfect breasts are in my hands, your legs are wide open to me, and you can't move an inch while I fuck you as slowly and completely as I wish."

I fell apart, burying my screams in the pillow as my climax shook my entire body. As it slowly began to fade, Braden groaned, his hands tightening on my chest as he pressed into me. I felt something thick and wet slide over that sensitive spot and pool on the mattress beneath me. He continued to ease himself in and out of me, milking himself as he emptied his seed into me. At last, he stopped, collapsing on top of me, breathing heavily against my skin. Releasing me, he rolled off of me and stretched out next to me. I lay still, keeping my face pressed into the pillow. After many long, long moments, I heard his breathing grow deep and even.

I waited for the panic to hit. I waited to feel the terror, the disgust, the anger, anything. I knew I had just been raped, and I knew how wrong it was, but I could drudge up no emotion except a deep, resonating satisfaction. What in all the hells was wrong with me?

I raised my head slowly and looked at him. He was still handsome, and as peacefully as he was sleeping, one would never know what he had just done. To me, I reminded myself. He did that to me. Why do I have to remind myself of this?

Watching him carefully, I slowly sat up, trying not to move the mattress. He didn't stir, nor did he as I cautiously climbed off the bed. I silently and hurriedly picked up my clothes, my legs feeling wobbly beneath me, and got dressed at top speed. Without stopping to look to see if he still slept, I unlocked the door and slipped out, shutting it behind me. The patrons of the tavern were winding down for the night, laughing and talking as they drained their last mugs and stumbled out the front door. I heard a whistle from one of the tables as I crossed the room.

"Someone got bedded tonight!" a man called loudly, drawing chortles from the lingering patrons as their glazed eyes fell on me. "You give it to 'im good, girly?!"

I pulled strands of my tangled hair in front of my scarlet face, rushing into my room and slamming my door shut. I leaned against it, breathing heavily. I was tired and sleepy, but I could feel my body humming with energy. I closed my eyes, but almost instantly, my mind began replaying what I just experienced. I could smell his scent, feel his touch, hear his words... Those words that I had dreamed before he'd uttered them. I opened my eyes and stared ahead. Pushing off the door, I walked to the looking glass and stood before it, staring at myself once again. My tousled hair brushed the sides of my flushed face. Splotches of my exposed skin glowed a faint pink, around my wrists, my mouth, and the faint, round bite mark on my neck. My eyes were bright, and I wondered to myself if I'd gone mad. Perhaps I left home too soon.

Even as I thought it, I knew I wouldn't go back. My adventure had barely begun. And what a time I'd had, so far.


	4. What Shame?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE WARNINGS! Hope you all enjoyed that last chapter. It's only gonna get weirder from here on out. It's worth mentioning that while I will do my best to stay as canon as possible, that's not the focal point of this piece. So there may be some discrepancies with lore and vanilla characters. I'm not gonna sweat it too much, but feel free to point out anything I might have gotten wrong, and I'll see about tweaking it to make it fit the original story. We've got a bit of extortion going on in this chapter. If that's a trigger for you or a distasteful piece of content, you might not want to continue. Thanks for following along, so far. Bask in the perversion!

"Excuse me?" I stared at the storekeeper indignantly.

Belethor leaned on his counter, his eyes flicking over me shamelessly.

"I'm just saying those farmer clothes are hardly better than a burlap sack," he commented with a shrug. "If you really want to show off those big mounds of yours, I've got what you need. Among other things you may need," he added, smirking.

"I just want to sell these hides I found," I said stiffly, dropping the wolf skins on the counter in front of him. The abandoned camp I had found had little else.

"I'll give you five septims each," he offered. "Unless you want to join me in the back room, then I'll give you ten."

I stiffened at his toothy smile.

"No, thank you," I sniffed.

He took the hides off the counter and looked them over before dropping them carelessly on the floor next to him. He bent, rustling beneath the counter before straightening and setting out some folded cloth with a handful of septims on top of it.

"The dress is on the house," he stated, pushing them toward me. "Can't expect people to take you seriously if you don't even bother to dress well. Do us all a favor and give us something to look at."

With a chuckle at my disapproving expression, he picked up the pelts and carried them into the back room. I grabbed the fabric and pocketed the coins, leaving as fast as I could without running. Were all the people of Whiterun that crude?

My travel here had been relatively smooth. I'd left the tavern at Rorikstead long before the sun had even risen, not wanting to see Braden or the face of anyone that might suspect what had happened in his room that night. Whiterun had been welcoming so far, until I'd come to Belethor's shop. I shoved the dress in my bag, feeling spiteful. There was nothing wrong with my clothes. My mother had made them. Though he may have had a point about the similarities to a burlap sack...

I spotted Carlotta in the distance, heading up the steps on the other side of the marketplace to the higher part of the city, and was reminded of my favor to her. Carlotta was a beautiful Nord, and a merchant with a stall in the market square. She was the first person I'd spoken to when I walked through the gates, kind enough to give me directions and a general description of the city. She'd told me of the Bannered Mare, the city's popular drinking hole and inn, and warned me of a bard that stayed there, who was apparently quite the dog. He was known for pursuing various women, but apparently his focus had shifted heavily to Carlotta lately. I could tell the subject made her uncomfortable, and I pressed her for more information, feeling concerned for the sweet woman. She told me her husband had died, leaving her to care for their daughter alone. The bard at the Bannered Mare, named Mikael, was unconcerned with her disinterest, and approached her relentlessly, convinced he could win her over. She'd been having a hard time keeping his attention a secret from her daughter. I was determined to help.

I went in to the Bannered Mare and was accosted by the sound of music and laughter. Many of the citizens of Whiterun was just settling down for lunch. When I asked the innkeeper where I could find Mikael, she pointed him out, and I turned to see a handsome young man plucking a fast-paced melody on a lute, his skilled fingers flying over the strings. I waited until the tune was done before I approached him.

"Excuse me, Mikael?" I asked politely.

"Yes?" he asked vaguely, bending over his lute as he tuned it carefully.

"I've been asked to pass on a request that you stop your advances on Carlotta," I said formally, hoping Belethor's comment about not being taken seriously would not prove true, now.

"Leave Carlotta alone? Not a chance," he said without looking up. "That little minx is mine. She just doesn't know it, yet."

"She just wants to focus on her daughter," I insisted. "Can't you understand that?"

Finally, he raised his head.

"Look--"

He stopped short, his eyes widening slightly as they flickered down my body and back up to linger on my lips.

"She's..." he stalled hesitantly. "I've wanted her for so long..."

"But her daughter is the only thing that matters to her," I said firmly. "She has no time for you. Please consider what's best for her family."

"Well..." he said slowly, blinking as if to clear his thoughts. "I suppose I could be persuaded..."

"Truly?" I asked eagerly, trying to pretend he wasn't staring in a most inappropriate way. "I would really appreciate it--"

"Not for free, of course," he said evenly, raising his eyes to mine. "I've quite a fondness for her, it would take a lot of persuading to make me stay my hand. Her value to me is high."

"Oh..." I hedged. "I'm afraid I don't have much coin. Would you consider fifty septims? Or perhaps a favor, I could run an errand for you--"

He smiled and held up a hand.

"I wouldn't dream of taking more from you than you could afford, and I certainly wouldn't want to send you anywhere dangerous. Let us set our terms, and then our Carlotta will be rid of me."

"Alright," I agreed readily. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," he began, but a nearby table of off-duty guardsmen burst into roars of laughter, thudding their half-filled mugs on the table. "It's a bit loud in here," he said, raising his voice over the noise. He looked around, then back at me. "I have a room just upstairs, let's discuss this there."

Without waiting for my reply, he got up, setting his lute on the bench. He moved through the crowd and headed up the stairs in the back. I followed him hesitantly, remembering the last time I was alone with a bard. He held open his door for me, and I slowly walked inside, but when he closed the door behind us, he didn't lock it, and I relaxed slightly. He moved across the room and closed the door that led to the balcony overlooking the main room downstairs, slightly muffling the noise of the crowd, then sat on the one chair against the wall. He leaned back, tracing his finger over his lips as he looked me over thoughtfully.

After a long moment of awkward silence, I prompted, "Your terms?"

He gazed at me, and his look made my stomach flutter.

"My terms are quite simple," he said matter-of-factly. "Carlotta is the most beautiful resident of Whiterun, and I must have her. I have needs. If I am to forfeit those needs, I will require a replacement."

"What do you mean?" I asked, knowing the answer but hoping I misunderstood.

"You," he replied simply. "I would require you. Your beauty surpasses hers on the best of days."

"I'm not a resident here," I reminded him, my pulse beginning to quicken.

Mikael shook his head.

"Your beauty and I suspect your body are such that I would rather have my way with the most beautiful visitor of Whiterun than its finest resident."

I took a steadying breath.

"So, you're asking me... to sleep with you... then you'll leave Carlotta alone?"

He shook his head, looking at me almost pityingly.

"Not for such a small price, no. I feel I must reiterate my desire for Carlotta. Long has it been brewing. I will forget her if you promise yourself to me once for every visit you make to Whiterun."

I shook my head quickly, clenching my hands at my sides.

"I can't do that," I said quickly.

He shrugged.

"Then Carlotta will be mine. At whatever cost. I hope my persuasion of her won't involve her daughter..." He shook his head sadly, staring at the floor. "And wouldn't it be damaging for such a young girl to walk into her home and see her mother struggling as I force myself on her? And then, of course, I would need to ensure they wouldn't talk. Do you think killing the little one's pet cat in front of her would scare her into silence?"

My heart raced, the color draining from my face.

"You wouldn't," I whispered.

"I would," he insisted quietly, looking up at me. There was an unnatural darkness in his once-light eyes. "If it was the only way to get you, I would."

He wasn't Mikael. This wasn't the bard I'd heard of. Where were these dark words coming from? Shivering, my shoulders slumped, and I knew from his smile that he sensed my defeat. He stood and crossed the room, standing in front of me.

"Every time you set foot in Whiterun, you are to come straight to me. I don't care how long your stay is, your body is forfeit the moment you walk through that gate."

I gave a small nod.

"Swear to me. On your life."

"I swear on my life," I whispered, my voice wavering, "that every time I visit Whiterun, I will come to you for your pleasure."

He smiled and brushed aside my hair, kissing my forehead.

"I'll see what I can do for your pleasure, as well," he promised softly.

"And Carlotta?" I asked, my words barely making a sound.

"Forgotten. I never would have touched them, of course. But I hope you don't test that theory. On my honor, as long as your knees part for me, I won't even look her way."

He kissed his way down the side of my face, his hands sweeping my hair back over my shoulders. He stepped back, gazing at me heatedly.

"Take everything off. Leave your things on the table by the door."

I did as he said, feeling a burning behind my eyes. I willed myself not to cry as I bared my skin to him, wondering how I ended up here, now, like this. As I put my things on the table, he reached into one of his bags by the foot of the bed and pulled out a wad of fabric. He tossed it to me, sitting on his chair again.

"Put that on."

I shook out the fabric with shaking hands, and just managed to note it was a dress. It was difficult to see for the bluriness overtaking my eyes. I tried not to blink, lifting it over my head and sliding it down my body, but the tears spilled over as the dress settled into place. Mikael stood, moving in front of me again and taking my face in his hands.

"There's no need for that," he said comfortingly. "This has worked out wonderfully, don't you see? Carlotta gets left alone, and you and I can enjoy each other's company. Is that really so bad?"

Knowing it was rhetorical, I shook my head, and he pressed his lips to mine. Pulling back, he tugged me sideways so I was standing in front of a large, clear looking glass.

"There, now," he said with a smile, standing behind me. "How can you be upset when you look like that?"

The dress was soft and thin. Without my wrap, I could see the small imprints of my nipples pressing against the fabric. The dress had been made with a less busty woman in mind, and my breasts strained against the white fabric, threatening to spill out the low-cut sides. The waist was cinched, hugging my curves as the attached green skirt draped down over my thighs in uneven cuts. The hem stopped short of my knees, and the pointless, inch-wide sleeves slipped off my shoulders, leaving me feeling nearly naked. I tried to pull the sleeves up, but to no avail, and Mikael took my hands, stopping me. He kissed my cheek and looked at my reflection appraisingly.

"You are a lovely dish," he said softly, lifting my arms over my head and pulling them back so they wrapped around his neck.

He traced his fingers down the underside of my arms, and I watched, mesmerized, as he brought them down to my breasts. He took them in his hands and kneaded them gently, both of us watching as the soft flesh bulged at the edge of the fabric. I couldn't quite suppress my shiver as his palms chafed against my now-erect nipples, and he smiled slightly.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked curiously. When I didn't answer, his smile widened. "There's one way to check. Don't move."

He slid his hands down my belly and over my hips, gathering the skirt in his fists. He tugged it up on one side just enough to slip a hand underneath, out of sight. I felt his fingers on me then, probing their way up between my legs. Reading his destination, he rubbed me fervently, his fingers sliding wetly along my skin.

"Ohh, yeesss," he hissed, grinning into the reflection of my eyes. "You are more than ready. Gods, that was fast. I suppose, with you, I won't have to try as hard."

He pulled his hand out from under my skirt and licked his fingers clean.

"Let's get this dress dirty," he said suddenly, pushing me so I fell onto the bed.

I tried to get up, but he climbed over me, straddling me, untying his pants as he went. He reached behind me and pulled two pillows so they rested beneath my head and shoulders, then he pushed me down so I lay on them, propped up before his hardening manhood. He took himself in his hand and put his tip against my my lips, pushing impatiently.

"Open your mouth," he demanded, and I did, letting him push into me.

He pressed his knees tightly, uncomfortably, against my sides, trapping my arms. He balled both hands into my hair and leaned forward, flexing his hips to push my mouth open wider. He worked fast, his precum never making it to my tongue as it was shoved against the back of my throat, and I wasn't given time to ponder why I felt that small bit of disappointment. Faster and faster he moved, and I struggled to breathe, but after only a few quiet moments, he pulled out and rubbed himself vigorously. His thick semen squirted out over my lips, my chin, my neck, and the tops of my breasts, the white fabric immediately beginning to absorb the liquid.

I gasped for breath, droplets from my lips falling into my mouth, and I closed my eyes as the delicious flavor filled my senses. I licked my lips, catching more of it and tasting it appreciatively. I barely registered him climbing off the bed, but with my hands free, I was able to push some of what was on my chin into my mouth. As I licked my fingers, I opened my eyes and saw him watching me, his eyes nearly black and filled with desire.

"Stand up and face the bed," he said gruffly.

I did as I was told, trembling again. What, now? I heard a rustling behind me, and then he was standing next to me.

"On your knees, hands on the bed."

I sank to my knees, placing my hands on the edge of the mattress. He knelt behind me and reached around, putting something against my lips. It was hard, and when I looked down, I saw it was a flute. The mouthpiece pushed at my lips, and I opened, them, confused. Did he want me to play a tune? But he pushed it too far in for me to blow into the mouthpiece, sinking a few long inches into my mouth. He swirled it around, prompting me to run my tongue over its sanded wood, ridged with carved patterns.

"Spread your legs," he murmured against my ear, causing my belly to tighten.

I adjusted my knees on the wooden floor so they were further apart, the discomfort only heightening my sensitivity. His free hand swept my hair forward over my left shoulder, then he ran his hand down my back. When he reached my backside, he ran his fingertips down between my cheeks, along the tender skin, my back hole clenching as he skated over it and around to my damp cleft.

"Still wet, good," he said, pulling the flute out of my mouth.

He stopped rubbing me, moving his fingers to my hips, and he wrapped his right arm around me, lowering the flute past my stomach and out of sight. I inhaled sharply, my entire body tensing as he shoved it roughly inside me. It wasn't thick at all, but it was hard and unyielding, and he was not gentle. I cried out in pained shock, but he ignored me, forcing it in as far as it would go so that it jabbed me somewhere deep inside.

"Mikael, please," I gasped, gripping the furs on the bed tightly. "Stop!"

In answer, he put his free hand on my head and pushed me forward so my cheek rested against the top of the mattress, the soft furs tickling my face. He continued to violate me with his flute as I cringed. After an impossibly long minute, he pressed against me and whispered in my ear.

"Had enough?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Please..."

"Stand up, then."

He pulled the flute out roughly, making me wince, and got to his feet, moving away. I gingerly pushed myself to my feet, shaking. I heard a clatter, and looked back to see him placing the chair behind me. He sat on it, the flute still in his hand. He held it up, looking at me with the hint of a smirk.

"Do you know what this is?"

I turned to face him, shaking my head shyly.

"This is my most prized possession. My father gave it to me. It's very important to me. And now, whenever I put this to my lips, I'll be able to taste you."

I cast the flute a dark look. My insides still ached. Mikael chuckled.

"Yes, I'm afraid your first introduction to it was rather brutish. But now, our arrangement is also important to me. And since this will be reminding me of you when you're gone, it would please me if you two got along."

I stared at him blankly, and his smile faded, his eyes darkening.

"Turn around."

I blanched, and he held up a finger, spinning it in lazy circles. I turned slowly, dreading the pain, and yet... I refused to think further.

"Bend over and put your hands on the bed," Mikael murmured.

I bent, leaning my hands on the mattress, and squeezed my eyes shut. I felt him lift my skirt over my back, his finger tracing my lower lips before sliding inside. He fingered me slowly, adding a second finger, and twisting them, feeling all they could reach. My lips parted with a slight sigh. After a moment, he pulled them out, and I felt the hard mouthpiece pressed against me again. I held my breath, but felt no pain as he slowly, carefully pushed it into me. In and out it slid, its ridges stroking along my insides. It felt infinitely better than the first time. For a few minutes, there was no contact with my skin other than the flute, and that knowledge had a slow flush creeping over my flesh as my breathing changed, growing shallower.

Then I felt something warm and wet stroking me, between my cheeks, above the flute. Rubbing my back entrance. It was his thumb, and as he braced his hand against my flesh, he pushed at the hole, sliding his lubricated thumb into the tight space. the invasive feeling felt foreign and wrong, and my traitorous body instantly wanted more. I only just managed to turn my moan into a whimper passable for discomfort.

"Don't worry," Mikael said soothingly. "You'll get used to it. Maybe even enjoy it. If not, well..."

I bit my lip as he puled his thumb in and out of me in time with the flute. My body was growing tense with need, and I was finding it hard to keep still.

"You are getting wetter and wetter," he observed as a drop of my arousal began to slide down my inner thigh. "I think you want more."

His lips pressed against the underside of my right cheek, and I felt his tongue brush against my skin, the soft, velvet texture making my stomach clench as it slid upwards along my flesh, right next to where his hands worked against me. My knees began to shake, and I felt his breath on me as he chuckled.

"I thought you might enjoy yourself," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Do you want your release?"

"Yes," I said quickly, hoping I wasn't making a mistake with my admission.

"Yes, what?" he prompted, and I could hear his smile in his voice.

"Yes, please?" I said uncertainly.

"Tell me what you want."

I blinked, caught off-guard.

"Uh..." I closed my eyes, trying to focus, but that only seemed to intensify my building arousal.

"You're as innocent as I thought," he said slyly.

He carefully pulled his thumb out of me, then he very, very slowly pulled out the flute, setting it on the mattress.

"Turn around."

I straightened and turned, and as I faced him, he slid his loosened his pants down to the floor, leaning back in his chair. His penis was growing hard again, resting stiffly between his thighs. He pressed his legs closer together and pated his knees, inviting me to sit. I went to sit sideways, but he shook his head, smiling impishly. I faced him and moved forward, parting my legs and stepping on either side of his so that I straddled him. I sat lightly on his knees, feeling self-conscious at the closeness.

"Take me in your hands," he instructed, sliding his own hands over my knees.

I reached down and carefully lifted his erection, gripping him with both my hands.

"Go on."

I glanced up at him, my cheeks warming, then back down, and I began to slide my hands along his length, squeezing gently. His lips parted in a light sigh of pleasure. He raised his hands to my face, resting his fingers on my jaw and neck, his thumbs skimming over my cheeks.

"Our deal needs to be one of discretion," he said softly.

I nodded, watching as his manhood hardened further in my hands. His fingers tilted my chin up slightly, and I raised my eyes to his.

"If you were to tell anyone--"

"I won't," I assured him quietly.

He smiled.

"Good."

His fingers traced down my neck, over my collarbone, to the tops of my breasts. He pressed his palm to the front of them, kneading them gently through the fabric. He spread his legs beneath me, forcing my legs farther apart as I balanced on him. he slid his hands down and over my backside, grabbing me suddenly and pulling me closer so his erection rested snugly against my clit, the fabric of my skirt the only thing separating them. I inhaled sharply, and he grinned. He took my hands in his, loosening them from him, and lifted them over and behind my head, clasping them together.

"Keep those there," he said softly, his eyes raking down my body.

He pulled roughly at the white top of the dress, the fabric sliding aside to expose my lifted breasts. He pulled at the skirt next, moving the fabric over his erection so it pressed directly against me, hidden from sight. He flexed rhythmically, stroking my clit with his shaft. His touch turned greedy, groping and grabbing with abandon. His hands rubbed over my stomach, clawed at my back, ran over my hips. He leaned forward into my breasts, leaving hot, wet kisses in the wake of his lips. My breathing was shallow, my skin burning with need. His right hand went behind me, dipping under my skirt, his fingers probing impatiently until they found my opening, three of them pushing inside. I bit my lip, stifling my moan to a whimper, conscious of the thin walls and doors around us.

"Tell me what you want," he said again, looking up at me with lust-filled eyes.

When I hesitated, he gave a crooked smirk before he clamped his teeth down around my nipple. I turned my face so my mouth was pressed against my arm, muffling my loud squeak. He released me, running his tongue over my smarting nub.

"I'm a bard," he said, his breath washing over me. "I like words, and I want to hear you speak. Those shapely lips have never uttered anything distasteful, I'd wager, and I plan to change that. I'll teach you."

He sucked my nipple softly as his fingers continued to probe me, and I arched my back, pushing my breasts against his face. He pulled back, looking up at me again, his left hand between my heavy mounds.

"We'll start small," he said gently, keeping his eyes on mine as he ran his tongue over my skin. "Do you feel my dick pressed against you?"

He flexed so that he rubbed me again, and I nodded, my eyes half-closing.

"Say it."

"I feel... your dick... pressed against me," I said shyly.

He smiled his approval.

"Very good, my little minx."

He pulled his fingers out of me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me forward against him as he lifted me up. I lowered my arms, grabbing his shoulders for balance. He held me up, the tip of his penis just brushing the edge of my opening.

"Now, tell me you want me to screw you," he murmured, his lips at my collarbone.

"I want you... to screw me..." I said breathlessly.

He lowered me onto him, his firm head pushing past my slick folds, parting me as it pushed inside. He stopped halfway, holding me aloft.

"What do you want now?" he whispered, gazing up at me hungrily.

"I want it all the way inside," I panted, my chest heaving against his. "I want your dick--all of it."

He rewarded me, lowering me onto his lap, fully sheathed in me. He flexed upwards, pushing down on my hips to claim every inch of me. I gasped, tightening reflexively.

"Do you want more?" he rasped.

"Yes," I said frantically, my body practically vibrating with anticipation.

"Tell me."

"Screw me," I begged softly. "Now. Please!"

He gripped my waist, raising me, and my toes found purchase on the floor, my legs finding leverage. He dropped me onto him again and I moaned quietly, my fingertips digging into his shoulders. I used my legs as he raised me again, pushing against the ground, and he flexed his hips to meet me as I came back down, a small slapping sound coming from under my skirt. He tilted his face into my neck, whispering against my skin.

"Say it again."

"Screw me, screw me," I pleaded pathetically, writhing on top of him. "Please, Mikael, screw me!"

"Oh, I will."

He raised and dropped me, bouncing my ass on his lap as he set a steady pace. I gritted my teeth as I tried to keep up, but after a minute, my legs gave out. He slid his arms under my thighs, his hands holding my asscheeks, spreading them with their grip, and drove me down on him again and again. The slapping sounds were more distinct now, filling the room. I gasped for breath, small moans and gasps escaping my parted lips.

"Our deal is a secret," Mikael grunted, leaning back against the chair to look up at me as he bounched me up and down. "But this won't be. Open your lips, my little songbird, and sing for me. I want the whole city to hear you. I want everyone to know I fucked you."

I gasped, his forbidden words making me clench around him. He bucked his hips up, ramming into me eagerly. I cried out, caught by pained surprise and rippling pleasure.

"That's it," he groaned, grinning. "Nice and loud, just like that."

He did it again, and I moaned helplessly, my body beginning to tremble excitedly. He bounced me on him again, his erection driving into me as my ass slapped his thighs. My breasts jiggled and bounced in time with the pace, and he watched them greedily. A long moan escaped my open mouth as my insides tightened.

"Go on," he rasped, watching me with delight. "Let them hear you!"

My entire body spasmed and he wrapped his arms around me, shoving hard into me as I cried out, heedless of anything but his touch and my ripping orgasm. I sagged forward against him, and he held me as he stood up. Staying inside me, he moved forward and laid me back on the bed. He lifted my legs beneath my knees, spreading my thighs wide, and pumped into my eagerly.

"Oh, gods," he growled. "I can't pull out..."

He groaned loudly as he came, pushing deep inside me. His breath came heavily as he slowed, milking himself until he had no more to put in me. Finally, he slid out, and despite my satisfaction, I felt bereft at the emptiness he left behind. Hadn't I had enough?

He collapsed next to me on the bed, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me up so my legs didn't dangle off the edge. He sighed contentedly at my ear as he ran his hand over my breast.

"I look forward to the next time you visit," he murmured lazily. "But I should really get back to work." He leaned up on an elbow, looking down at me. "Strange..." he mumbled, his brow furrowed. "I want to fuck you again. Right now."

My eyes widened, even as my heart skipped a beat.

"I don't have the stamina, of course," he continued thoughtfully, "but if I could, I would definitely spread your legs right this second. Usually, I've had enough after..."

He shook his head, pushing off the bed and pulling his pants up again. He glanced in the looking glass, examining his tousled hair, and left it as-is, a smile playing on his lips. He retrieved his flute, looking down at me as he licked the tip of the mouthpiece. His eyes drifted down my body to my wet opening, where thick, sticky cum was slowly trickling out of me.

"If, by chance, you get pregnant," he said, moving to the door, "I suggest raising it in another town. Perhaps Riverwood, so your visits can be frequent. And they will be, or our contract will be void. No need to raise a child here, where the entire city can hear our delicious games."

With a smile, he stepped out the door, closing it behind him. I tried not to panic as I stared at the ceiling. A child? I couldn't get pregnant! I was just leaving childhood myself, even if my body said otherwise...


	5. What Orientation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE WARNINGS! READ 'EM! Got some lady-on-lady action coming up. This is the first scene like this I've ever written, and it was pretty fun. It took a bit of a different tone, but I just kinda ran with it. It's a little short, as I was just feeling out this new kind of scene. I'll experiment more in the future. Enjoy, pervmeisters.

"You did?!" Carlotta asked incredulously, looking up at me in disbelief as she locked away the contents of her stall. "How the blazes did you manages that?"

"It just took some convincing on my part," I said evasively. "I think, maybe, he was getting close to giving up on you, anyway."

"Well, that's a relief," she said gratefully, standing and brushing her hands off. "Thank you. It'll be nice to finally live in peace. Now I can focus on my daughter."

I smiled, feeling for the first time that my distasteful arrangement may have been worth it. Carlotta looked at me worriedly.

"It didn't cost you anything, did it?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," I assured her. "I didn't have any gold to give in the first place."

She nodded, satisfied by my vague answer.

"Well, allow me to thank you properly," she said kindly. "Come have dinner with me and my daughter tonight."

"Oh," I sputtered in surprise. "I'd love to. As long as I'm not intruding..."

"Not at all," Carlotta replied with a smile. "Come on. It's potato soup tonight."

Dinner with Carlotta and Mila was just what I needed. It was fun and relaxing, the teasing and the jokes reminding me of home. Their house was small, with just three rooms; the main room for sitting and cooking, and two small bedrooms, with little more than stuffed mattresses and furs on the floor. But it was clean and well-kept, and so far, it was my favorite place in Whiterun. As dinner ended, Carlotta got her daughter ready for bed, seeing her clean and changed. I could hear them bickering good-naturedly through the cracked door of Mila's bedroom.

"Will you put that down and take this, already? It's past your bedtime!"

"But Mom," Mila whined, "I want to show Merilyn my potato goat!"

"Not tonight, now put this on--"

"But I won't see her again tomorrow!"

"Yes, you will, you can see her in the morning. Hold still--"

"No, she won't be here in the morning, Mama! Adventurers never stay in one place longer than a day, Braith said so!"

"She still has to sleep, Mila. Just visit with her on your way to your lessons."

"But I don't know what room she's staying in! And the Bannered Mare smells funny!"

Carlotta gave an exaggerated sigh. "Merilyn," she called through the crack in the door. "What room are you staying in at the Bannered Mare?"

"Uh..." I hedged. I hadn't thought of my sleeping arrangements. I only knew that I wanted to avoid that place for now. "I'm not sure, yet. I may just stay outside the city, or something. Those rooms are kind of expensive..."

Carlotta's face appeared in the doorway, Mila stumbling around behind her with her sleeping gown tangled over her head.

"You can't sleep out there," she said with concern. "Besides the wolves and giants, you'll freeze to death."

I shrugged, but before I could say anything, Mila threw the door open, having finally gotten her gown on.

"Why don't you stay here?" she asked excitedly. "I can show you my potato goat and tell you all about its divine origins!"

"Oh, no, I couldn't," I said quickly, not wanting to put Carlotta on the spot. "Thank you, though, Mila, that's very sweet. I'll make sure I see you tomorrow to meet your potato goat."

"She's right," Carlotta said to me as she tried to usher her daughter out of the doorway. "If you're not staying at the Bannered Mare, you should stay here. You won't be imposing, and it's really no trouble."

"If you're sure..." I said hesitantly as Mila cheered from behind her mother.

"I am," Carlotta replied with a sweet smile. "You're most welcome here." She disappeared, the door closing behind her again. "Alright, in bed-no, put it down, we're showing her tomorrow. Bed! Now!"

I smiled, listening to them as Mila settled into bed. After a quiet minute, Carlotta came out, looking weary but gratified.

"She gets more energetic every day," she said, sitting in the chair across from me. "I don't know how I'm keeping up with her."

I grinned. "She's a sweet girl. You've done well with her, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I do my best," Carlotta said with a sigh, gathering our plates and cups. "It's hard, being just me. Her father could always calm her when she was so excited."

"Where is he?" I asked, hoping I wasn't over-stepping.

"Dead," she replied simply.

"I'm so sorry," I said, chagrined.

"It's okay," she assured me, dunking the dirty dishes in a small barrel full of water. "He was taken too soon, and we've suffered for it, but we've made do. It's been three years. That's long enough to mourn."

I nodded understandingly and looked around the room. My eyes fell on a woven tapestry on the wall. Small, and roughly-made, but somehow... warm. I stood and went to it, examining the browns and greens that made the bold patterns.

"He made that."

Carlotta was right behind me, and she smiled apologetically when I jumped at her voice. She looked at the tapestry fondly.

"His grandmother made him pick a craft to learn, something that was considered "a woman's task". So he chose weaving. She taught him how to do it, telling him that all men must understand a woman's mind in order to truly make one happy."

"Smart woman," I said dryly.

"She was," Carlotta agreed.

"Three years..." I mused. "That's a long time. Does Mila remember him?"

"She does," Carlotta said uncertainly, "but I think she mainly remembers my stories of him. The ones I tell her."

I watched the sadness sweep over her face as she looked at the tapestry, and my heart ached for her. To lose someone she loved... Carlotta looked away from the tapestry, her eyes meeting mine.

"It's been very lonely," she said softly.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room changed as we looked at each other. She leaned towards me, and I found myself mirroring her before I had ever made the conscious decision to do so. Our lips met, and I couldn't believe how soft hers were. Her tongue ran lightly over my lips, and I parted them, inviting her inside. We tasted each other eagerly, our tongues softly entwining and exploring. She broke the kiss, taking my hand and leading me to her bedroom. As she shut the door behind her, I looked at her uncertainly.

"Are you sure...?"

"I've never wanted to be with a woman before," she said, giving me a look that was starting to become familiar. "There's just something about you..."

Without preamble, she untied her dress in the back and lifted it over her head, dropping it to the floor as she stepped towards me. I tried to speak again.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," I told her as she grabbed the hem of my shirt. "We were just talking about some difficult things-"

"My husband doesn't matter right now," she said carelessly as she quickly pulled my shirt off, mussing my hair. "What matters is having you. Right here, right now."

She tugged at my chest wrap and tossed it aside. It hadn't hit the floor before her mouth was on my skin, licking and sucking at my breasts. Her hands began to fumble at my pants.

"Your daughter might not be asleep, yet," I said, instinctively lowering my voice.

"She's asleep," Carlotta replied before drawing one of my nipples into her mouth.

"What if we wake her?" I asked, my breathing growing shallower.

Carlotta straightened, kissing my lips lightly as my loosened pants dropped to my ankles.

"We'll have to be quiet," she said with an uncharacteristically mischievous smile.

She pulled at her smallclothes, removing them in two swift moves and leaving them stranded on the floor. She pushed me gently backwards and down to the floor and the thick furs piled there. I stretched out on my back, lifting my hips as she slid my underwear down my legs. Tossing them aside, she leaned over me, looking down at me in wonder.

"By the gods," she whispered before leaning down to kiss me, her breasts brushing mine.

She settled between my legs and put her weight on me, deepening our kiss. She wound one hand into my hair as the other dipped between us, her fingers pushing inside me. She massaged me deeply and intimately, knowing exactly how to make my body sing. I grabbed at her skin, her slender back and soft rear, moaning lightly into her mouth. She pulled out of the kiss and looked down at me, her eyes so dark, they looked black.

"I have to fuck you," she murmured almost apologetically.

She slid her fingers out of me, ignoring my protesting moan, and reached under the edge of the furs. She pulled out a thick, long object covered in smooth leather with a short, wooden handle at the end. She put it to my lips, and, understanding, I let her slip it in, running my tongue over its surprisingly soft surface.

"I had this made for me some time ago," Carlotta told me softly, watching my lips slide over the surface. "It's kept me company on many a cold night. I'm going to put it inside you. I can't promise I'll be gentle."

She pulled it out of my mouth and sat up, propping my legs up on hers and putting me on display. She pressed the tip against me and pushed it in, making me inhale sharply. Gripping the handle tightly, she began to move the object in and out of me. I squirmed, running my hands over my breasts as I watched her watch me, her lips parted hungrily. She pumped the object into me again and again, picking up speed and force. The thrusts began to hurt in a strange, satisfying way, and I squeezed my breasts hard as I began to tense.

As she watched me, she began to rub herself with her free hand, slipping her fingers inside herself, then sliding them back out to circle over her clit. I watched as her nipples hardened, her breathing accelerating along with mine. Mirroring her, I slid one of my hands down my stomach to that spot above my folds. I teased it lightly with my fingertips, and the effect was instantaneous. My back arched off the furs as pleasure spiked through me, and a low moan came from lips as she shoved the leather-bound object harder inside me. My entire body began to quicken, and I watched as she unraveled above me, quietly gasping as clear liquid began to run past her fingers and down her legs.

Giving in to the sensations sweeping over me, I bit my lip to stifle my cry as I came, my entire body trembling. At last, she pulled the object out of me and collapsed at my side. We lay panting for a moment before she laughed.

"That was nice," she sighed contentedly. "I think I needed that."

I smiled. "Glad I could help."

She rolled over and nestled against my neck, her hand resting on my breast.

"I could go again, right now," she mumbled sleepily. "I could do this all night..."

But she was asleep in moments, and I couldn't help the slight disappointment I felt. But then sleep overtook me, too, and I was visited by the dream again, as vivid as it was the last time.


	6. What Brother?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT THOSE WARNINGS! Not much sexual content in this chapter. Needed to segue into the next encounter, and it came out longer than intended. Hope you enjoy the descriptions of the people and places, I'm trying to keep in mind that not everyone has played Skyrim. (Go play it, it's an awesome game.) If certain details are lacking, or certain scenes hard to picture, let me know, I want everything to be clear. Thanks and read on, pervettes!

The next day, after thanking Carlotta for her hospitality and viewing Mila's potato goat (an oddly- shaped potato that had grown into the shape of a goat), I wandered around Whiterun with a new idea in mind. After only a few questions, I learned about the Companions, a guild of fighters that were actually stationed in the city. I found their hall easily, large as it was, and went straight in to ask about recruitment. With the kind of luck I'd had lately, I thought it would behoove me to learn how to defend myself. The Companions were known for valuing such skills, and for valuing their companionship with each other. I figured with training like that, and people to have my back, I might be safer in the future. The leader's name was Kodlak, whom I found in the living quarters below the main hall. He was with a man named Vilkas, whose suspicious eyes latched onto me from the moment I stepped through the doorway. Kodlak seemed welcoming enough, though his eyes did wander a bit as we talked. He welcomed me readily into the ranks of initiates, informing me that I would need to complete certain tasks to prove myself before becoming a full-fledged companion. I agreed enthusiastically, glad there wasn't some sort of test before I even began my training. But that gladness wore off when Vilkas told me he would be the one to see what my sword arm was worth.

That first fight was brutal and humiliating. I couldn't even manage to land a single blow on him with my dulled practice blade. Vilkas was harsh, telling me there was no teaching me, that I should go back to the farm I'd obviously come from. Further humiliating was the fact that they held off giving me my first task. I would be in too much danger out in the wilds until I could properly learn how to swing a sword. Or my fist. Or at least stand correctly. It seemed, in the days that followed, that I had no base combat strengths to start from, aside from the endurance I'd earned from working on a farm. It was my only saving grace, and even Vilkas couldn't fault me for it. No matter how many times he knocked me down, often with half of the Companions watching, I would get right back up, no matter how sore or tired. Kodlak made sure to praise me for that, as I suspected there was little else to praise me for.

The first good thing about being a Companion was that I now had a place to sleep. I was assigned a bed in the general sleeping quarters, surrounded by other members of the guild. It was awkward, sleeping so close to so many people, and I worried that I might not be left in peace while I slept, but, despite lingering stares and suggestive smiles, everyone kept their hands to themselves. After a few days, I was given my first task, though it was a simple one, and I didn't even need to leave the city. I was given a few more, as well, all of them similar in their harmless nature. Collecting small debts was tricky, as I wasn't very intimidating-looking. Though, when I asked, people seemed to give the payment readily enough. I took broken armor and weapons up to the Skyforge to be repaired, ordered to watch the process so I might become more familiar with the pieces. I was fitted with some low-quality fur armor that actually fit over my curves, but couldn't quite manage to hide them.

The other Companions were nice enough, though one or two were abrasive. Vilkas's brother Farkas gave me the warmest reception, though it wasn't hard to see why. Unlike most, he didn't try to hide his interest in me, giving wolfish smiles when he made his loud propositions. But I didn't mind his company, he could make anyone laugh, even Vilkas. The two brothers were handsome, and I couldn't deny that I enjoyed looking at them. Farkas had black hair to his shoulders and scruff on his face, his eyes blue and his smile wide, and built like a bear. He often took his shirt off when he would drink, which was every night, and it seemed that even his muscles had muscles. Vilkas had slightly lighter, shaggy hair that fell about his face. He wasn't as broad as his brother, but he was no less cut. His eyes were the color of steel, as cold and hard as steel, to boot. And the more time he spent around me, the colder and harder he seemed to get. I couldn't step within a few feet of him without setting him off, somehow, until he'd either storm out or shout that I had some task I needed to be doing until I hurried away. But keeping my distance was difficult, as he trained me outside in the courtyard every night. This night was the same.

"Again!"

I swung my sword, but once again, Vilkas was faster, and his dull blade smacked mine aside before biting into my ribs. I gasped, winded, and he sent a savage kick into my shield, sending me sprawling backward into the dirt. I groaned, clutching my side, and Vilkas rolled his eyes.

"I'm taking it easy on you, girl," he said dryly. "How do you think your real enemies are going to treat you?"

"I'm trying," I grunted, pushing myself to my feet. "I'm a farmer, I've never raised a sword in my life."

"Well, I'm sure if you explain that to the bandits, they'll give you a break," he replied sarcastically.

I picked up my sword and readied myself, but he dropped his sword and shield on the ground.

"That's enough for tonight," he said, shaking his head as he looked me over. "One good hit, and I might actually kill you."

He walked away, and I threw my sword down angrily, frustrated that I wasn't catching on to this faster.

"He's a tough trainer," Farkas said, coming up behind me and making me jump, "but he knows what he's doing. You'd do well to heed him."

I nodded, dropping my shield and rubbing my side.

"I know, I just wish he wasn't so... harsh."

Farkas stepped toward me and grabbed the edge of my shirt, lifting it to look at my bruised side.

"Hey!" I objected, pushing my shirt back down.

He smirked. "Shy, aren't we? Come on, I've got a tonic that will heal that right up."

He led the way inside, and I followed, wincing from my sore muscles. We walked through the hall and down to the sleeping quarters. He led the way past the room I shared with the others, to another set of rooms off the main hallway. Opening a door, he gestured me inside, and I stepped into his private chamber. It was messy, the bed disheveled, his belongings scattered. Soiled weapons lay across the table and floor, old clothes were thrown across a chair, and what looked like grisly trophies sat on wooden shelves on the walls.

He opened a chest by his bed and rummaged noisily through it before standing and handing me a vial of red liquid. I took it gratefully and popped off the cork, downing it in one swig. After a few moments, the pain in my side faded, leaving only the ache of my training.

"Thank you," I said brightly, handing the vial back to him. "That definitely helped."

He nodded, tossing the vial carelessly aside. He cleaned off the chair, leaving the clothes on the floor, and pointed to it as he moved to the door.

"Take off your armor and have a seat. I'll get us a mug of ale and a meal before you go to bed."

He walked out, and I looked around, blinking in surprise. I slid my armor off and set it by the door before sitting in the chair, gazing around the musky room. After a few moments, Farkas came back, balancing two plates and two mugs in his large hands. He kicked the door shut behind him and moved to the table, cleansing a spot to set his spoils. He perched on the edge of the table and raised one of the mugs.

"To our newest recruit," he toasted, looking down at me. "May your sword stay sharp."

I raised the other mug and touched mine to his, smiling. We drank and ate and drank some more, Farkas pulling out his private stash of hard liquor with a mischievous grin. We shared a few stories and he told some uncivilized jokes. My head began to feel a little light, and his laughter grew a bit more raucous.

"...and there I was, swinging at the saber cat with the fury of the gods, and I hear Vilkas yell, 'It was already dead, you idiot!'," Farkas continued his latest story as I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes. "'It was dead when we found it!' he said. I was so piss-drunk, I couldn't even tell it wasn't moving!"

We laughed loudly together, and I sat back, gasping for breath.

"Oh, gods..." I sighed, my chuckles fading. "Thank you, I needed that. I should really get to bed, though. I'm sure Vilkas will want me to run some more errands for him."

I stood and reached for the plates, but he waved me away.

"I'll take care of those tomorrow."

I nodded. "Thanks again," I said with a smile, turning to the door.

He caught my wrist and I stopped, looking back at him.

"You're not leaving," he said as if it were obvious.

I blinked at him.


	7. What Consent?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THOSE WARNINGS!!! I know it's been a long time since I've posted. Life took a bag of bricks and smacked me in the face. Repeatedly. It's cool, though, Life and I are on speaking terms again. Don't forget to leave criticisms (not judgements), and I'll see what I can do to make it better. Straight-up rape in this chapter. Dialogue's pretty campy, too, but what are you gonna do? Enjoy the story! Or don't! S'all good!

“I… I need to go to sleep,” I said hesitantly.

He was a far more formidable force than anyone I’d dealt with so far. Farkas shook his head.

“No. You’re staying here.”

“That’s not a good idea,” I insisted, trying in vain to free my wrist from his grip. “I’m your shield-sister, now.”

“Skorn and Aela are at it all the time,” Farkas confided, rising off the table to stand, looking down at me darkly. “I hear them down the hall. Everyone does. No one will bat an eye if they hear us, too.”

“I’m not comfortable with this,” I said shortly, somehow managing to twist out of his grip as I lurched for the door.

I had it open an inch before his hand shot past my head, slamming it shut again. I tried to pull it open, but his strength dwarfed mine. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, smelling strongly of liquor, and I fought through my half-clouded thoughts to find a solution to my predicament. His hand remaining on the door, I felt his other hand on my waist, his fingers grabbing at my tunic.

“Stop or I’ll scream,” I proclaimed, hoping he would see reason.

“You probably shouldn’t have warned me,” he replied simply.

Then his hand was on my mouth, and his arm was around my waist, lifting me and pulling me back to the middle of the room. I tried to scream, but very little sound got around the iron clasp of his fingers, and he pulled my head back so that I was held tightly against his hard body, my head pressed against his chest. As I tried desperately to claw his fingers free, his other arm loosened and his hand slid up my shirt, cupping my heaving breast over my undergarment. He squeezed and kneaded it roughly, and I turned my focus to that hand, trying to push it off me.

Ignoring me completely, he took his time, massaging both my breasts freely as though my struggles were nothing. My nipples hardened as my belly clenched, making me angrier that I would respond this way to such an assault. Feeling the taut peaks, he grabbed one, squeezing it tightly as he rolled it between his callused fingers, sending stabbing pleasure shooting right down to the apex of my thighs. I kicked back at him, my boot catching his shin, and he grunted.

“Hold still,” he growled, his fingers finding and pinching my other nipple.

When I kicked him again, he hauled me over to the bed so my knees were pressed against its side. He stood right behind me, giving my legs no room to move. His hand on my mouth pulled so that my head was tilted, and I felt his warm lips on my exposed neck. Pressing his free hand flat against my stomach, he began to kiss his way down my neck, pausing at the base to part his lips and run his tongue over my sensitive skin. As his hand began to inch down my stomach, he pressed his mouth to the side of my neck and began to suck with enough force to leave a mark.

His hand muffling y objections, I tried with all my strength to stop the progress of his wandering fingers. His rumbling laugh vibrated the skin on my neck as his fingers slid down past my belly.

“Go on, girl,” he breathed beneath my ear. “Stop me.”

My fogged brain flew into incoherent panic, and I grasped and pulled uselessly at his hand. I tried again to yell for help, but little sound came out. He eased his thick finger inside me torturously slowly, laughing quietly at my meek attempts to stop him. He slid it in and out of me, groaning longingly under his breath. I dug my nails into his forearm, and he cursed. But rather than stop, he forced another finger inside and began to pump them in and out of me, his palm cupping and rubbing my apex. I dug in harder, and so did he, his teeth clamping down on my ear. It seemed like mere moments before my legs began to shake, and he pressed closer from behind, his erection pressing hard against my backside. He held me in place, and I whimpered as my entire body clenched.

He pulled his fingers out of me, leaving me dismayed and disoriented, and both of his hands released me as he tugged his shirt over his head. The brief moment I took to catch my breath was over too quickly, and his hands were on me again. I shoved against him, managing to turn around so I could push against his distractingly chiseled chest.

“Let me—whoa!”

I was lifted and thrown over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, and he moved across the room to the table as I pounded against his back.

“Put me down!” I shrieked as things began to clatter and crash to the floor behind me as he carelessly pushed everything off the table.

I took in a lungful of air, but was suddenly flipped off his shoulder and into his arms. He set me down on the table and hooked his hands behind my knees, pulling me to the very edge. I reared my hand back and slapped him across his cheek, leaving my hand tingling. He began to laugh, and as he reached for me, I furiously drew my arm back and drove my fist into his face. Blood formed at the corner of his mouth, making his grin look feral.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. “No good victory comes without a bruise or two.”

He grabbed my head in his hands and crushed his lips to mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I tasted his blood, as well as his ferocity. I was so overwhelmed by the taste and scent of him, I momentarily forget to fight back. But then his hand went into my hair at the back of my head, clenching it tightly in his fist so that I couldn’t move. He drew back, his gaze wild as his eyes bored into mine.

“I’m going to take you,” he said in a low, guttural voice. “Long and hard. I’m going to spend the night claiming you as my own. You should relax and take it. If you fight me, you’ll wear out quickly. But if you decide to fight me,” he added, grinning widely, “I certainly won’t object.”

Before I could reply, he pulled my hair back harshly so that I was forced to lay back across the table. Farkas bent over me and grasped the neck of my tunic in his free hand and his teeth, then he pulled so the fabric split, ripping down the middle of my chest. He moved down, ripping until my tunic lay in ruins. I tried to cover myself with my arms, holding my wrap in place. He used my distraction to grab the hem of my trousers, yanking them down impatiently so there was a loud rip, and I felt them slide loosely down my legs, held up only by my knee-high fur boots. He tried impatiently to position himself between my legs, but my trousers got in his way. I began kicking at him again, and he growled in frustration. He raised me off the table and turned me around, releasing my hair and shoving me forward so I had to brace myself against the table. I swung my arm back, trying to catch him with my elbow, but he caught my arm easily, shoving me down so I lay on my stomach, the rough wood biting into my skin. He held me down with one hand on my back as he ripped the ties on his trousers.

I felt him press against me, the skin of his thighs hot against mine. I couldn’t kick with my legs tangled as they were, and my attempts to push off the desk were laughable compared to his strength.

“Farkas, please,” I gasped as he pulled my underwear to the side. “Please don’t do this!”

He positioned himself at my opening.

“Please—“

I cried out as he entered me hard and fast, his considerable girth stretching me wide. He growled long and low, his nails raking down my back. He pulled back just an inch before forcing himself inside further, wetting his length with my arousal.

“Please!” I cried, finding my voice again. “Sto—“

“Quiet,” he ordered, bending over me and pressing his chest to my back.

He wrapped one arm around me, raising my head and covering my mouth once more. Gripping my hip for leverage, he flexed his hips, pushing further into me. He was not gentle, setting a rough pace that I struggled to endure, held down as I was. He pushed against my clenching muscles, gradually forcing his entire length into me.

“Take it, girl,” he rumbled in my ear. “Easy. Just take it.”

He pushed again, fully sheathing himself, and I cried out into his hand, feeling satisfyingly full. He thrust into me, filling me again and again. I clenched against him even as I reveled in him, my hands clutching the edge of desk in front of me. He grunted with loud abandon, his body tensing as it ground against mine. He groaned wildly, his fingers digging deep into my hip until finally he stilled, his muscles taut as he kept himself buried in me. I wanted to move, to gain some sort of friction to release my own tension, but the weight of him forbade it. He let out a loud sigh and relaxed, pulling out and pushing back in several more times as he milked himself inside me.

“Damn, girl,” he muttered against my shoulder. “They don’t make ‘em like you anywhere I’ve been.”

He released me and pulled out suddenly, making me gasp. He straightened behind me and moved away. I remained on the desk, thick liquid trickling freely down my thighs, staring at the wall in front of me. I was just taken against my will. Again. And all I felt was unsatisfied and frustrated. What in the nine hells was wrong with me?

I was pulled up suddenly, Farkas turning me so I faced him. He stood naked, his clothes on the floor. His manhood hung limp and heavy, still wet and somewhat swollen.

“That was over a little too quickly,” he lamented with a smirk. “I’ll try to take my time with the others. We have a lot of night to fill.”


	8. What Bonds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP BATMAN, READ THOSE WARNINGS!!! More rape in this scene. Bondage. Fun stuff.

I shook my head quickly.

“No. We’re done. I’ll go to Kodlak if you ever touch me again.”

His smirk widened.

“You go to Kodlak looking like this, and he’s liable to fuck you, himself.”

His eyes raked down me, taking in my breast wrap underneath my ripped tunic, and my torn trousers still hanging around my knees.

“Take off your shirt,” he ordered.

“No!” I cried, ready to start yelling for help.

He ripped the tunic back off my shoulders, but instead of pulling it all the way down my arms, he left it around my elbows. As I struggled to pull the shirt back up, he raised a strip of cloth with a large knot tied in the middle, and shoved the knot into my open mouth. As he pulled the cloth around to the back of my head, I tried to raise my arms to stop him, but the shirt caught me. I wanted to ask where he’d even gotten it, but the fabric smothered my tongue.

He finished tying the knot behind my head before I could wrestle my shirt back onto my shoulders, then he grabbed the ruined garment and yanked it down my arms, tossing it aside. I tried to push against his chest, but he seized my wrists in his large hands and pulled my arms apart, holding me in place as he gazed at my chest wrap, my breasts bulging beneath it. He grinned, running his tongue over his lips, then turned me around and once again pushed me forward onto the desk. He wrestled my arms behind me and held my wrists tightly, and I felt more cloth wrapping around them. A brief moment later, he released me, and my struggle did nothing to loosen the knots he’d made.

He pulled me up and turned me, lifting me to sit clumsily on the desk. He caught my legs in one of his arms, holding them still as he pulled my boots off, then the remains of my trousers. I shouted at him, but my exclamations were muffled. He released my legs, and I kicked at him, but he deflected me, rolling me onto my back and pulling me to the edge of the desk so he stood between my knees. I was uncomfortable, my arms trapped beneath me as I glared up at him. He reached down into a drawer on the side of the desk, and lifted a small dagger for me to see. I stilled, my eyes going wide. He chuckled.

“Not for you,” he assured me, leaning over me and sliding the blade underneath my chest wrap. With a neat flick of his wrist, my wrap split, my breasts springing free of their confines. His eyes blazed as he pulled the scraps of fabric aside. He set the dagger aside absently and reached for me, greedily. My breasts filled his hands, and his rough fingers brushed over my soft skin. I suppressed a shudder as he swept over my hardening nipples, and when he took them into his fingers, pinching them lightly, the shudder broke free. Farkas smiled.

He increased the pressure of his fingers, beginning to roll them, and I bit down on the knot, stopping the whimper trying to escape me. His lips parted as he watched me, pinching and rolling me harder. A violent shudder went through me, my stomach clenching at the sensation. I squirmed, trying to move away from him, but he leaned over me, weighing me down. His lips brushed over my left breast, his tongue leaving a wet trail over my skin. He pulled the nub into his mouth, sucking gently as his fingers continued to tease the other. He grasped the swell of my breast, pushing it up into his mouth as he pulled more in, sucking hard.

I couldn’t stop myself from panting, or my body from shivering at his touch. He moved his mouth to my other breast, continuing his assault as he held it firmly. His other hand slid down my stomach to my underwear, tracing over them along the line of my cleft. His teeth clamped down on my nipple, making me spasm, then he straightened, looking down at me hungrily. He lifted the dagger and put it on my hip, slipping it beneath my underwear and slicing the side open. He did the same to the other side and pulled the scraps away, dropping them on the floor. He set the dagger aside and gazed down at my exposed womanhood, putting his hands on my knees and slowly pushing them apart. The air was cool on me, though his lingering stare sent a heated flush over my skin. He leaned forward, kissing between my breasts, then moved downward, trailing kisses over my stomach, down to my lower belly, over my mound and stopping at my lower lips.

I tried to remind myself that this was still against my will, that I should try to get help, but then his tongue flicked out, hot and wet, sliding along the cleft. Then he pushed it past my inner folds, and I felt it inside me, pulsing in and out with a thirst that couldn’t be quenched. Then he moved, sweeping his tongue up until it flicked my most sensitive spot. Gasping around the fabric, I tried to close my legs, but he held them open, and I whimpered as his lips wrapped around that spot. He suckled me, licking and stroking and flicking until my legs began to quake. I whimpered louder, and he pulled back, looking up at me with a smug smirk.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you?” he asked, standing so he leaned over me. “You were so eager to leave, before. Are you ready to submit to me, now?”

I shook my head frantically, hoping he would release me… while also hoping he wouldn’t.

“You may not be ready to submit,” he cajoled, running a finger down my cheek, “but you do want me to fuck you.”

I shook my head again, my eyes turning defiant.

“No use denying it,” he persisted, his fingers tracing the tops of my breasts. “I can smell it. Not to mention taste it…”

He licked his lips, and I looked away, heat flooding my face. His smile faded, and he straightened.

“Now I want to taste more.”

He pulled me up again, crushing me to him as he put his hand in my hair. He pulled my head to the side, lowering his lips to my neck and sucking hard, his free hand sliding down to my backside and squeezing. My legs finally free, I raised my knee to catch him in the groin, but he was faster, moving enough that I harmlessly struck his thigh. He jerked me roughly by my hair, his lips brushing against my cheek.

“Try that again, and this night will get a whole lot worse for you,” he whispered.

He sat down in the nearby chair, his hands on my hips as he pulled me with him to stand between his knees. His eyes slid up my body leisurely until they rested on mine.

“Submit to me,” he murmured, a hard look in his eye. “Show me your belly, and I’ll go easy on you.”

I shook my head, unable to look away from his intense stare, and tried to jerk away, but his fingers dug into my skin.

“So be it,” he said with a wolfish grin. “I’ll just fuck you into submission.”

He yanked me forward so that I nearly fell on him, and using my moment of imbalance, slid his legs between mine. He pressed me high against his chest, one of his large hands pressing against my back. He spread his knees, effectively parting my thighs to him. His free hand drifted beneath me, and I could hear him stroking himself.

“Usually, I’m not ready again this quickly,” he shared, pleased. “Must be having a good night. Well… good for me. Maybe not for you. We’ll see, won’t we?”

Without further preamble, I felt the tip of his cock pushing against my opening. I squirmed, but there was little I could do in such a vulnerable position. He held himself in his hand as he angled up into me, and he slowly lowered me onto him. His girth spread me wide, wider than before, and the dry friction eased as he very gradually pulsed out and back in. A third of the way in, he stopped, keeping me pressed against him as I hovered over his lap. He released himself and put his hand on the curve of my ass, his fingers brushing close to where he entered me.

I whimpered as he pushed in and out, watching my face as he coated himself with my arousal. Then he pushed me down further, my nipples rubbing against his coarse chest hair. I was the fullest I’d ever been, and he wasn’t finished, yet. I closed my eyes as he moistened himself again, unable to deny the carnal electricity coursing through me.

“Eyes open, girl,” he grunted. “I want to watch you take all of me.”

My eyes opened reluctantly, meeting his heated gaze. His hands pushed me down as his hips bucked, his thighs meeting my backside as he pushed completely into me. I gave a muffled sob as I struggled to keep my eyes open, the pain of the intrusion bringing tears to my eyes. Both his hands trailed up and down my bare back as he allowed me to acclimate to him, and gradually the pain transformed into pulsing heat. I throbbed around him, my body trembling against his, my breasts pushed up between us. His hands slid low over my ass, the tips of his fingers brushing against my stretched opening, and he lifted me slightly before lowering me back down, his wet member now sliding effortlessly between my folds. He did it again, pushing a little harder into me.

“Does that hurt?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head. He lifted me higher and dropped my down heavily, thrusting up and deep, deep into me. I gave a helpless, muffled cry.

“How about now?” he asked with a feral grin.

Something in my face set him off, and he dropped me onto him again without waiting for an answer. My feet couldn’t find proper purchase on the ground, angled as I was, and all I could do was endure his hard thrusts. After what must have been mere minutes but felt to me like hours, he paused, releasing my backside and placing his hands on my shoulders. He pushed me carefully so that I sat up straight, my legs dangling to the sides so that my toes could touch the floor.

He pressed a hand to my belly, satisfaction on his face as he viewed his sheathe. He put his hands on my hips and lifted me effortlessly, sliding me along his shaft before dropping me back onto it, my ass hitting his lap with a satisfying slap. He did it again, and I used my toes to make it easier for myself, pushing when he lifted, dropping when he did. After a few practice tries, he began to set a pace with me, bouncing me on top of him again and again, without pausing. My breasts bounced and swayed with the movement, drawing his eyes, pushed out as they were from my arms being bound behind my back.

His arms flexed, his muscles rippling as he moved. I watched him as his eyes took in every inch of me, the motion of my chest, my taught stomach, the ripple of my thighs, and the point where he entered me. His breathing grew labored, and he began to buck his hips, meeting me as he dropped me down. He jarred my body with the impact, and I couldn’t stop the muffled squeaks and sounds escaping me with each thrust.

I clenched around him and he groaned, pushing me harder down onto him. My feet lost their traction as my legs began to quake, and my back arched as my legs curled around his thighs. I bit down on my gag with a muffled scream as my orgasm ripped through me, but rather than teetering off as it normally did, it continued, driven on by his hands as they drove me down again and again. Waves of intense pleasure washed over me, and I felt him grow hard and swollen as his loud groans mingled with my cries. Liquids both watery and thick spilled out of me, forced out each time he filled me. The slapping sounds turned wet and loud as the fluids flowed and splattered, coating us both wherever we touched.

Finally, he slowed, his chest heaving as he slid me along his shaft a few more times. He gave one last, hard thrust and I whimpered, completely spent and no longer able to support myself. I slumped forward and he caught me, holding me to his chest, which heaved beneath me with each breath.

But before I could move or even slow my panting, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Farkas reached for something, and suddenly my bonds and gag were cut free and dropped abruptly to the floor. I could only blink when the door was flung open, and Vilkas stood in the doorway. His eyes immediately fell on me where I lay limply on Farkas’ chest before sweeping down to my exposed backside, with a clear view of where his brother was still buried deep inside me, our skin shining with sweat and cum.


	9. What Pretense?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT THOSE BEAUTIFUL WARNINGS!! And I'm back again. It may take decades (I fucking hope not), but I will get this story finished! Having fun developing it. This chapter has a threesome and some name-calling and slut-shaming, so beware. Again, all of this writing is experimental while I see what works and what doesn't. I've actually written a LOT more than what I've posted, already, I just need to get them on here and stop being a lazy ass. If something about the writing doesn't work for YOU, let me know, I love the feedback! If something about the content doesn't work for the STORY, also let me know. Thank you for the comments so far, they've been fun to read! Enjoy yourselves, my widdle pervie-wervies!! ...iono

“Brother,” Farkas greeted him easily, resting his hands on my backside. “See, this is why I tell you to knock first.”

“I never thought this was a concern,” Vilkas replied stiffly, his eyes cold. “I didn’t think there was a wench alive who would lower herself to lay with you.

My flush deepened, chagrined by his insult. How could I tell him I was just raped when I lay here so freely?

“Now, now, brother, don’t be jealous,” Farkas teased with a laugh. “If you want a turn, all you have to do is say so.”

He stroked his hands around the curve of my buttocks, putting me on display. I thought I would die of shame as Vilkas’ eyes flicked over me.

“Hardly enough to tempt me into tasting your leftovers, brother,” he replied coolly.

“Yeah, well, wait ‘til you see her tits,” Farkas vaunted with a wide grin. “Ample is the word. Big and soft, with more milk in them than our mother ever had.”

“Eloquent, as always, Farkas,” his brother commented dryly, though his eyes drifted back to me. I slowly braced my aching arms against Farkas’ chest and feebly tried to push away, but he held me close with one hand.

“Perky, too,” he continued, his free hand tracing up and down my spine. “And they’ve got more bounce than they’ve any right to. But the real gem is between her legs.”

“Spare me, brother— “

“It’s warm and pink, especially now,” Farkas continued, a wicked glint in his eye. “Not a hair on it. I’ve never seen the like. You can see everything, and it’s such a delicious sight.” He licked his lips. “Not to mention taste.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Vilkas decided, taking a step toward the door, but he stopped at his brother’s next words.

“But the way she feels… She’s so tight, you can hardly get inside her. But once you’re in, it’s like she’s made for you, squeezing you as you work in her.”

I watched as Vilkas’ lips parted, his wary eyes on mine as I stared back, flushed and shamed, frightened but heated by his gaze. I felt my blood begin to stir again, and it occurred to me that Farkas was growing hard inside of me.

“And the sounds she makes,” Farkas continued in a low voice, pressing his fingernails into my skin and raking them slowly down my back and making me shiver. “Just little squeaks and moans around the gag I had in her mouth, but…” He grasped my hindquarters tightly. “I bet we could make her scream.”

He reared a hand back and slapped on of my cheeks hard, eliciting an involuntary sound from me. Vilkas’ eyes darkened. Farkas gripped my hind-end, spreading it as he began to roll his hips, easing himself very gradually in and out of me.

“Don’t you want her?” Farkas asked innocently as he slowly began to take me. “Don’t you want to feel her creamy thighs? Don’t you want to hear her scream your name?”

Vilkas put his hand on the door’s handle. Afraid he was going to leave me to the mercy of his brother, I sat up slightly, looking at him pleadingly.

“Vilkas…”

He stared at me with an unreadable expression. Then he turned away, and my stomach dropped. But when he pushed the door shut, he was still inside. He reached up and slid the bolt, locking the door. When he turned back around, his eyes were black. I gasped and Farkas laughed, grabbing my chin with one hand and turning me to face him.

“Oh, the fun we’re going to have with you,” he crooned. “Come here, brother.”

As Vilkas walked over to stand next to our chair, Farkas pushed me up so that I saw on his lap again, his hardening groin pushing up inside of me. I was too stunned by the turn of events to fight him, simply staring with wide eyes

“See what I mean?” Farkas demonstrated, running his hands up my stomach to my breasts, squeezing and lifting and separating them before watching them spring back into place. “Absolutely perfect. He put his hands on my hips and began to move me, slowly and gently, grinding against and inside me. “Go on, touch her.”

I looked up at Vilkas, my eyes wide and my cheeks pink. He gazed down at me and raised his hands to either side of my face. He bent and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me softly. But the tenderness was ruined as Farkas began to gently raise and drop me again, swelling larger within me. Vilkas ignored my slight jostling, pulling my chin down with his thumb and pushing his tongue into my mouth, tasting me deeply. Finally, he broke away, and I looked up at him, my breath short.

“I had to tie her, at first,” grunted Farkas as he rolled his hips up to meet me, the rhythmic slaps returning. “But I think she’s ready to submit to us, now.” He grinned widely. “Why don’t you put those pretty lips to use?”

Vilkas pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside. He stepped closer to me, taking my hands and putting them at the ties of his trousers. My hands shaking, I struggled to untie them as Farkas bounced me faster, laughing at my clumsy efforts. When they were untied, Vilkas reached into them and pulled himself out. He was as long and thick as his brother, and my eyes widened at the sight of it, already semi-hard. He stepped closer and glared down at me with lustful eyes.

“Mouth,” he ordered tersely. “And pray it’s a damn sight better than your sword skills.”

Frightened and inexplicably thrilled, I quickly took him in my hands, pressed my lips to his tip, and pulled him into my mouth. I wet him with my tongue as I slid the first couple of inches in and out. As I drew him further in, Farkas groaned beneath me, bouncing me harder, up and down. Vilkas took over, grasping my head in his hands and beginning to push in and out, stilling my head as the rest of me bucked from Farkas’ thrusts. He pushed himself to the back of my throat, my lips stretched wide to accommodate him. His tip began tapping the back of my throat each time he slipped in. I sucked when I could, but mostly just endured, taking the rest of his shaft in my hands, stroking him as he moved.

The warmth in my belly was just beginning to build again when Farkas groaned loudly, slamming me down around him as he emptied himself into me once more. He milked himself a few more times before stilling, allowing Vilkas to control my movement fully. Vilkas gritted his teeth, pushing hard into my mouth and nearly down my throat. I sucked and squeezed him harder, hoping to end it soon so that I could breathe properly again. His body stiffened, and he looked down at me darkly.

“Drink,” he growled as I began to taste salt. “Drink me, wench.”

As his semen poured into my mouth, I swallowed, relishing in the taste and how very much of it there was. When he finished, he released me and pulled out. I licked my lips to catch the stray droplets there before leaning forward and running my tongue over and around his head, tasting all that I could. Gods above, I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“Oh, she LOVES this,” Farkas observed with relish. “And here, I thought you wanted to leave.”

I released Vilkas, blushing deeply. Farkas sat up straight, lifting me off him with a wet sound as more thick juice ran down my legs. He put me on my feet and gave me a light shove so that I stumbled into Vilkas, who caught me. Farkas went to the bed while Vilkas raised a hand to my mouth, tracing a finger over my moist lips.

“Well done, wench,” he intoned approvingly. “Perhaps you should be doing this professionally, instead of pretending to fight.”

I scowled at him, stung, and took a step back.

“I’m not a wench.”

“We’ll see about that,” he hinted in a low voice, a glint in his eye. “Maybe you’re something else.”

“I’m a lady,” I told him indignantly, my back stiffening.

Vilkas snorted. “You’re a whore if we pay you. A slut, if we don’t. But you’re no lady.”

“I am—”

He was suddenly in my face, back me into the edge of the desk. He touched my neck gently, his fingertips brushing my jaw. His other hand dipped between my legs and he pushed a finger slowly inside me. My lips parted as I inhaled, my eyes half-closing as he palmed me. In seconds, I was panting, and he put his lips to my ear.

“Tell me you’re a lady again,” he murmured.

“I…” I struggled to concentrate as he stroked me.

“You’re my whore,” he continued. “Tonight, and any night I please.”

I opened my eyes and pushed against his chest, though it hardly moved him.

“I’m not a whore!” I declared shakily.

“She’s right,” Farkas agreed, coming to stand next to me. “She’s definitely a slut.”

He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away, trying to push between them. Vilkas pulled his finger out of me, and the brothers exchanged a glance before grabbing me.

“Let me—”

Vilkas clamped a hand over my mouth and the two of them lifted me, kicking and thrashing, and carried me to the bed. They dropped me onto it, Vilkas keeping my mouth covered, and they spread my arms out to the sides. With rushed movements, my wrists were bound with rope that was tied to two corners of the bed. I wildly thought that they hadn’t been there before. When they let me go, I couldn’t move my arms, and I glared up at them, cursing them behind Vilkas’ fingers. Farkas replaced his brother’s hand as Vilkas removed his boots and trousers. He pulled something out of his pocket as Farkas smirked down at me.

“I wonder if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” he mused, trailing a finger over my cheek. “If you can, we’ll just have to try again.”

I shivered as he gave me a feral smile.


	10. What Payment?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THOSE WARNINGS LIKE YOU'RE BEING PAID FOR IT!!! Just wanted to say thank you for all the kudos and the kind comments. It's cool that I still have readers after my hiatuses. Yes, that's a word. Some more name-calling and slut-shaming, so if those are triggers, don't read on. I think I'm going to change the layout of my summary and notes for the next chapter. The summary will say the same thing it always does, and at the end, I'll start tacking on specific warnings for possible triggers like I usually do here. Then I'll start putting the notes at the end. Just trying something new. Point out anything you think needs pointing out, and enjoy, Pervions! ...that's like minions, but pervy minions, so I combined the two, and yeah.

Vilkas climbed onto the bed by my feet. I kicked at him, catching him in the shoulder, and he glared up at me warningly before grabbing both of my ankles and yanking me down so my arms were stretched wide above my head, leaving no slack.

“If you kick me again, I’ll tie your legs, too,” he warned me sternly, and I knew it wasn’t just a threat.

Satisfied that I wouldn’t try it again, he crawled over me, his hands and knees pressing into the mattress on either side of me. He gazed down at me for a moment before pushing Farkas’ hand aside and replacing it with his own. His gaze was focused and intense, and I couldn’t look away.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

I just stared at him, the color draining from my face. He raised an eyebrow, then lowered himself so he hovered mere inches over me, his heat warming my skin. He slid his free hand beneath my head, cupping it almost gently, and pressed his cheek to mine, his whisper tickling my ear.

“Spread. Your. Legs.”

There was something sinister in his voice, soft as it was, and a thrill of fear went through me. I swallowed, my breathing quickening as I parted my legs for him. He adjusted himself, settling down between my thighs.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he revealed quietly, running his free hand up the crevice between my breasts, looking them over with calculating eyes. “I hope I don’t have to again.”

He teased my nipples one at a time, watching as they grew hard and peaked.

“If you’re looking for a flaw, you’re not going to find one,” Farkas pointed out from where he sat in his chair, turned to face us. “Every inch of that girl is perfect.”

Vilkas nodded, searching my face.

“It would seem so. We’ll see.”

His hand dipped out of sight, and I felt his fingers push into me, at least two, sliding in and out as his thumb rubbed my clit. I pushed my legs helplessly against the bed in a futile attempt to move away from his touch, closing my eyes so he couldn’t see the heat he was sparking in them. After a moment, his fingers slipped out, and I opened my eyes to see his face less than an inch from mine.

Then I felt his tip at my warmed and moistened cleft, and he gripped my hip tightly. His hand slid from my mouth as he pushed into me, hard and unyielding, and I gasped, my body clenching beneath him. He held himself there as he slid his arms beneath me, reaching up to grasp my shoulders for leverage. Watching me intently, he rolled his hips, pushing hard until I could feel his solid scrotum press between my cheeks. I whimpered, straining against my bonds, and I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’ll scream,” I warned him.

“You will,” he promised.

He pulled out slightly and pushed back in, as deep as he could, setting a slow, steady pace that set my skin on fire. He didn’t pull out far, just continuously ground into and against me, his pelvis continually rubbing my pearl. My breaths came in shallow gasps as I felt a warmth begin to spread in my belly. His hard, sculpted body pressed me down into the furs, and I couldn’t move an inch except for my legs. I pressed my feet firmly into the mattress to stop myself from touching him voluntarily. I had to remember…  
He slid an arm out from under me, reaching up to grasp my jaw so I couldn’t turn away. His parted lips just brushed mine as he breathed the air I panted.

“Why are you so silent?” he asked, whispering against my lips. “A good whore makes sound.”

“I’m not… your whore…” I panted, willing my body to stop responding to his touch.

“You are,” he insisted. He reached to the side and lifted something from the mattress. His fingers pushed my clenched hand open, and he pressed a golden septim into my palm, closing my fingers around it.

“Now, put those pretty lips to use… and moan for me,” he commanded, shoving into me hard.

Indignation made me press my lips together, but I couldn’t help the small sound in my throat.

“Louder,” he growled, drawing out and pushing back into me, grinding against my cleft.

I clenched my teeth, failing to stop my strangled cry. His hand was closed around mine, the coin digging into my palm. The heat in my belly began to sear, and when he filled me again, his nails digging into my shoulder, I parted my lips in a helpless moan.

“There’s my good little whore,” he said approvingly.

He pressed his lips to mine, holding them there as he took me deeply. I began to shake uncontrollably, and he swallowed my mewling as he kissed me, his tongue tasting and caressing mine. He broke the kiss abruptly and looked down at me, grimacing as he swelled inside me.

“Say my name,” he grunted.

I cried out as he began to push harder, forcing himself past my clenching walls.

“My name!” he snapped, his nails cutting into my shoulder. “Say it!”

“Vilkas,” I whimpered, pressing my thighs to his hips.

“Again!”

“Vilkas!” I screamed, spasming beneath him as I came. “Vilkas, Vilkas, Vilkas!”

He grunted, pressing his forehead to mine as he came inside me, his body rigid. When he finished, he slumped heavily onto me, his eyes closed. We lay panting for a moment before his eyes drifted open, fixing on mine. He pressed a kiss to my lips and gazed at me again for a long moment. Then his black eyes hardened.

“Worth every septim,” he stated baldly as he straightened over me, pulling out and freeing the stream of cum to flow down my apex and pool beneath me on the furs.

I glared at him as he climbed off the bed, dropping the coin he gave me so that it rolled off the mattress and clattered to the floor.

“See?” determined Farkas as he stood from the chair. “She’s a slut. She’s doing this for fun.”

I glared at him, now.

“I’m not doing anything,” I protested. “You’ve got me tied, remember?”

Farkas grinned, and as he walked to the bed, I realized he was holding his stiff member in his hand. He must’ve been pleasuring himself while Vilkas was on me. Vilkas took his place on the chair while Farkas stepped up to the bed, looking down at me.

“You can pretend all you like,” he allowed smugly, slowly stroking himself. “We saw your face. We heard those sounds you made. You liked it. And you’ll like what else we do to you.”


	11. What Audience?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merilyn was a gangly farmer's daughter looking for adventure, until her body changed into a walking temptation in an unnaturally short amount of time. Now anyone she gets too close to can't seem to keep their hands off of her when their eyes turn black, and she finds herself on a long road of tortuous pleasure and sexual self-discovery... with something incredibly dark at play. (Please read the warnings before reading this story. It has rape and other taboo sexual content. Don't waste your time if this isn't your cup of tea.)
> 
> THOSE WARNINGS ARE HANDY! I THINK YOU SHOULD READ 'EM! This chapter has more name-calling and slut-shaming, not to mention all the rape. Don't read on if these are triggers. Enjoy, pervillions!

As he climbed onto the bed, I shook my head quickly.

“No, I can’t take any more,” I pleaded. “I’m spent, please…”

He just laughed as he lay next to me, lifting me so he could wriggle underneath. He lowered me so that I lay on top of him, my back draped over his hard chest. My arms arched toward the bed, the ropes pulling them tightly. My head drifted back onto his shoulder, exposing my neck to him. I pressed my legs together, not willing to make it any easier for him. From the chair, Vilkas watched as his brother ran his hands freely over my front.

“Now the whole hall knows Vilkas fucked you,” Farkas murmured in my ear. “I want them to know exactly when I’m fucking you, too.”

My belly clenched at his words.

“Don’t want to feel left out?” Vilkas asked dryly, leaning back in the chair.

Farkas laughed, his breath tickling my neck.

“I’ll show you how to really bed a woman, Vil,” he bragged, his hands splaying across my stomach. He turned to press his lips just below my ear. “You don’t mind if he watches me fuck you, do you?” he asked softly, his rough hands inching up over my ribs. “Watching me touch you… Watching you writhe on top of me…”

His hands reached my mounds, cupping and squeezing them.

“Watching these luscious breasts bounce around… Watching these perky little nipples grow hard…”

He pinched my buds, making me yelp as they became pink and pointed. He slid his hands down to my lower belly, dipping one into the crevice between my thighs. He rubbed me hard, sending electricity through me. My exhausted body began to hum again, shocking me. Farkas slid his fingers between my lower lips, feeling the fresh moisture there.

“Oh, yes,” he hissed, slipping a thick digit inside me. “I’m going to stuff you good.”

“Stop,” I whispered, closing my eyes and trying to block out his touch.

“No,” he replied simply, pulling out his finger and sliding his palms between my thighs to easily push them apart.

The next thing I knew, without realizing how, he was entering me, his knees pushing mine further apart so that I opened to him fully. My eyes widened in alarm as he gripped my hips, pushing himself deeper and deeper into me. My lips parted with quiet gasps as I lay completely at his mercy. He raised a hand to the side of my head and turned it so that Vilkas was in my view.

“Don’t forget your audience.”

As I watched, jerking in time to Farkas’ thrusts, Vilkas took himself in his hand, slowly stroking himself as he watched me.

“Enjoying the view, brother?” Farkas asked teasingly, cupping my rippling breasts and squeezing them greedily.

“It could be better,” Vilkas replied, watching us critically.

“And how’s that?”

Vilkas’ eyes lingered on mine.

“Fuck her harder.”

Farkas grinned against my neck as I stared at Vilkas in horror.

“You heard him,” he muttered arrogantly. “Better hold on.”

Digging his fingers into my breasts, he thrust into me harshly, and I threw my head back, crying out. As he set a faster pace, he reached up to force my head to the side again. I could see Vilkas tilting his head as he looked down at my quaking form, rubbing himself slowly as he watched. Farkas returned his hand to my breast, gripping and tugging them both for leverage. He glanced back to his brother.

“Better?” he asked.

Vilkas shook his head.

“Harder.”

Farkas released my reddened mounds and gripped my waist, holding me firmly in place as he drove into me, hard and fast. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, appalled and enticed by the singing in my blood as my heart pounded and my chest heaved with my panting.

“Eyes open!”

My lids flew open at Vilkas’ command, and he glared at me as he stood and took a step toward the bed.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered in a hard voice. “I want you to know that I’m watching your body get violated. That I’m pleasuring myself to it. HARDER, Farkas.”

Farkas let out a deep, excited laugh before latching onto the skin of my shoulder with his teeth. Grabbing my hips, he lifted me so that my pelvis hovered over him. He pulled me down hard, bucking up to slam into me. I half-sobbed, half-moaned, pain erupting through me and giving way to intense pleasure. Farkas set a brutal pace, driving into me with unforgiving force.

Vilkas moved closer, standing over me with a ravenous expression as he watched my body tense, jarred with each thrust. My breasts bounced freely, my ass and thighs rippling with each impact. Trying to keep my eyes on Vilkas, I began to mewl loudly, no longer able to contain my pleasure. Farkas released my now-bruised shoulder and pressed his gritted teeth to my neck.

“Yeah, you little slut, take it,” he grunted, his crass words washing over me. “Take it all in that tight little cunt.”

“Moan louder,” Vilkas pressed as he watched, stroking himself more quickly, now.

I complied, my lips parting wide as I moaned wildly, my core beginning to tighten.

“Louder,” Farkas growled, my ass clapping against him as he pounded me mercilessly. “Let the whole hall hear. Who’s inside you right now?”

“Farkas!”

“Who’s fucking you RIGHT NOW?”

“Farkas-AH!”

I began to clench, my back arching further off his chest. Vilkas reached down, grabbing a fistful of my hair so that I faced him, my head slightly to the side as he leaned over me, rubbing himself vigorously.

“Are you a little slut?” Farkas asked as my walls began to tighten.

“Yes,” I gasped breathlessly, watching Vilkas’ lips part above me.

“Say it,” Farkas rasped, his teeth raking my ear.

“I’m a little slut,” I whimpered, beginning to quake.

“You want me to keep fucking you?”

“Yes,” I squeaked.

“You don’t want me to stop?”

“No, please!”

He began to slow, gripping my hips with bruising strength.

“What do you want?” he breathed against me.

“Fuck me,” I gasped, desperate for my release.

“I’m sorry?” he asked coyly, slowing further, still.

“Fuck me, please!” I cried, trying to push myself down on him.

He pushed faster into me.

“Again!”

“Fuck me, Farkas!” I shouted desperately. “Fuck me hard, please! Just fuck me!!”

He pulled me down to him, his fingernails scratching my skin as his member drove into me with maddening force. I cried out with the force of each impact, my breath hitching as I convulsed. My cum sprinkled out over the bed and down my cheeks as it was forced out by his girth. Spots entered my vision as I finally went limp. Above me, Vilkas groaned quietly as his hand flew along his shaft, and his seed spilled onto my stomach in a thick rush. Farkas followed soon after, slamming savagely into me and eliciting a final cry from me as he poured himself deep inside me. Releasing a huge sigh, he clamped a hand over my mound, rubbing and squeezing me roughly just above my opening as he pushed into me slowly, milking the last of himself into me. He pulled out carefully and clamped a hand over my cleft.

“Don’t let a drop spill out of you,” he warned me in a low voice. “The moment you do, I’ll fuck you again, longer and harder.”

Swallowing, I nodded, and when Vilkas cut the rope from the bedpost, I lowered my aching right arm to replace his hand with mine. Farkas lifted me off him, laying me on the mattress next to him. Vilkas cut the other rope, and I pulled my left arm to my chest with relief. They left the bonds on my wrists, the length of rope still hanging from each, and I was too exhausted to remove them. My eyes drifted shut.

“I think I won that bet,” Farkas grunted, running a finger over my shoulder.

I turned away from him, rolling onto my left side while keeping my hand pressed between my thighs. The semen on my stomach rolled coldly over my skin, but I barely noticed.

“What bet is that?” I heard Vilkas ask.

“That she’s a slut,” Farkas replied as though it was obvious.

“You know, I think you may be right.”

The mattress sagged, and I opened my eyes to see Vilkas collapse onto the furs in front of me, pressed close in the confined space.

“Don’t you have your own room?” Farkas asked dryly. I could hear the weariness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Vilkas sighed. “But she’s not in it.”

“Fair enough,” Farkas conceded.

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me back against him, sighing heavily. Vilkas moved close to my front, draping his arm around my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. I was asleep in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of the physical feats in this story may be hard to believe. Keep in mind this is a fantasy story, not meant to be TOO realistic. These humans (the ones that are human) are capable of killing dragons. So picking up a person and spinning them on their fingers like a basketball is not altogether unbelievable! This story's just for fun while I try out different material, so let me know what you think! Also, I'm HEAVILY considering changing this from first to third person. I tend to write better from that point of view. And I'm writing my book in third, and I keep accidentally slipping into first because of this story. -_- I'd love to hear any opinions, so drop a comment with your thoughts.


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